


Day of Waiting

by dracodomitor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (use of the terms 'crazy' and 'mad' quite a lot), Ableism, Blood and Injury, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James needs a hug, Marauders' Era, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, No Bashing, POV Sirius Black, Remus needs a hug, Self-Doubt, Sirius Needs a Hug, Sirius is sort of a jerk?, Time Loop, Young Sirius Black, because sirius has self-esteem issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracodomitor/pseuds/dracodomitor
Summary: Time-travel fucks up your life - over and over. That's kind of its thing.





	1. aevum

**Author's Note:**

> AEVUM: an age; eternity.

"- Sirius! Get up you lazy sod!"

Sirius groaned into his pillow, kicking out at the blankets tangled around his legs. A jolt of heavy pressure on his back forced his eyes open and he craned his neck to see James grinning at him. “Uhh, Prongs. What time is it?”

“Eight,” Remus said from out of Sirius’ line of sight.

“You guys go on without me,” Sirius urged, flopping his head back down onto his pillow. “I feel like shit.”

James scrambled off his back and poked his shoulder with one long finger. “You sure? Minnie’s gonna be mad if you don’t hand in your homework.”

Sirius waved his hand towards the vague location of his trunk. “It’s in my bag. I’ll meet up with you at lunch or something.”

Sighing in exaggeration, James rifled through his stuff. “Yeah, yeah. C’mon, Moony, let’s leave the mutt to his nap.”

Eyes flying open, Sirius bolted upright. “ _Mutt!?_ Who’re you calling a mutt, you pra - oh.” He blinked in surprise at the empty dormitory. He could’ve sworn...ah, never mind.

Sirius kicked his blankets away and slid out of his warm cocoon. He padded across the cold floorboards to the end of his bed, where his folded clothes were on top his trunk from the night before. There were no longer in the neat stack he'd left them; James had thrown the pile out of the way so he could grab Sirius’ homework. Grabbing his now wrinkled shirt, Sirius pulled it on as fast as he could, making sure to fasten his tie, as it always paid to be well presented.

He’d spend a few minutes brushing his hair on a normal day, but a quick glance at the clock Remus used told him he was out of time. He had over exaggerated when he’d wake up, having only planned to sleep in and skip breakfast. But now it was ten and Transfigurations would be over in an hour. He'd be lucky if he only got one detention and not three for his tardiness.

 

* * *

 

Sirius ignored the varying sounds of disapproval from the portraits lining the corridors. Not that he cared. He'd grown up in Grimmauld Place; the paintings there did a lot more than tut in disapproval. Don't even get him _started_ on the decapitated house elf heads...

He shuddered, speeding up a bit as he rounded the corner. He was a Gryffindor, damn it! No true member of the House of Godric would be squeamish about some silly old heads, thank Merlin no one could hear what he was think -

"Oomph!" Sirius managed to keep his balance, but the student he'd collided with was not so lucky. Bag spilling to the ground, the Hufflepuff’s ink pot exploded on the floor in a shower of glass. Sirius shielded his face, but the action was pointless as the ink only splattered his trousers and shoes with little inky specks.

“My essay!” The Hufflepuff boy cried. Sirius lowered his hands, wincing when he saw the mess of the -at least- six-foot-long parchment. Feeling guilty, he pulled out his wand, intending to fix the ink pot. “I can do it!” The Hufflepuff snapped with surprising venom.

Sirius recoiled, stung. He slid his wand back into his robes. “Fine. You’re awfully loud for a Hufflepuff.” That'd show him.

“And you’re awfully _rude_ for a Gryffindor. More like a _Slytherin.”_

“Shut your mouth!” Sirius hissed, taking a threatening step closer even though the other boy was still crouched on the floor. “I’m nothing like those freaks!”

“Whatever, Black. Everybody knows you hate all the other houses since you don’t even try to hide it. I even saw you bullying Hale," the other boy said like that meant something to Sirius.

He frowned. “Who?”

“He’s in Ravenclaw...Blonde, freckles...?” Sirius stared at him blankly. “ _You humiliated him in front of the entire school at breakfast yesterday!”_

He and James had upended an entire bowl of porridge onto a Ravenclaw boy’s head, as they felt he was annoying in his enthusing about homework. Hale had run out of the Great Hall, red-faced as the majority of the other students had muffled their laughter. Professor McGonagall had not found it so funny and she'd scheduled them in for detention immediately. But that was small potatoes after six long years of them.

“Oh, yeah. The Muggleborn guy, right?” Hale was a known goody-goody who excelled at everything, as well as getting all the girls’ attention since they considered him so ‘precious' and 'adorable’.

The other boy gave him a dirty look, straightening as he finally managed to collect his ruined papers. “You make me _sick,_ Black. Picking on people because they do something you don’t like... Michael didn’t even go to classes yesterday he was so embarrassed. The other Ravenclaws said he was crying in the bathrooms this morning.”

What a wuss! It had been a harmless prank that Hale had no need to get so worked up about. Why was he crying? Most people would have forgotten by now if he wasn’t making such a big deal of it.

“That isn’t my problem,” Sirius pointed out, glaring. He didn't like insinuations that he was anything like his family – that his pranks were anything but some harmless fun. “We were only joking.”

The Hufflepuff scoffed. “Yeah, nice joke. Funny.” He hefted his bag over his shoulder and pushed past Sirius, leaving ink-stained footprints as he stomped away.

What a little git! He wasn’t a very good Hufflepuff; Sirius had always thought most of them to be nice and quiet, always accommodating to the superior Gryffindors. But that prat had been rude and nosy, nothing at all like he had experienced so far from the House of the Badgers. Quite irritating, if he would admit.

 _"My essay!”_ Sirius mimicked in a high-pitched voice, before he scoffed and, side-stepping the ink puddle, marched off to class. Now he was going to be even later than before. Stupid Hufflepuff - he'd pay for that.

 

* * *

 

Sirius eased the door to his Transfigurations classroom open and ambled in. The other students looked up as he passed their desks and the whispering caught Professor McGonagall’s attention. She swung around as he slid into his seat beside Peter.

“Mister Black! Where have you been?” She marched up to his desk, which was unfortunately rather near the front. James started snickering. “I’ll hear none of that from you, Mister Potter!”

“Sorry, Professor,” James said, still looking amused. Prat.

“I was helping out a bewildered Hufflepuff,” Sirius lied shamelessly, as he had been doing no such thing. A Hufflepuff was, sure, but that was about the extent of it. “Lost in the vast maze of our cherished school. Alone and afraid.” He paused. “I was fulfilling my duty as a brave, selfless Gryffindor by helping the less fortunate.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyes narrowed, but as there was no way of disproving him, she turned on her heel and returned to the blackboard with quick, efficient steps. Sirius knew she was secretly enamoured with his charming personality, something which he reciprocated. She was his favourite professor, even outranking when Headmaster Dumbledore would take over their Defence lessons before finding a new teacher for them.

“Now, as I was saying before Mister Black decided to grace us with his presence; exams are coming up and I can’t remind you enough how important it is to go over your books and essays -” Sirius tuned his favourite professor out, cushioning his head on his folded arms and stretching across the desk.

“Here,” Peter whispered, slipping him a piece of parchment. He unfolded the note under the cover of their desk.

‘ _Gryffindor duty’? What a load of old tosh! I can’t believe MG bought that! Where were you, really? Moony reckons you were off snogging Janie from Charms!’_

James’ handwriting was rarely legible, and he insisted it was to stop Slytherins copying his top secret notes and plans. Sirius, of course, thought that was rubbish, and that his best mate didn't practice enough as a child to be any good. He must’ve made a special effort for this note, though, as the words were neat if a little cluttered.

Sirius himself could not shake the loopy writing his tutors had drilled into him since he could hold a quill. His knack for calligraphy did come in handy in _some_ cases, to impress professors and back when they did the final copy of the Marauders Map, but it was never fun for people to say you write like a girl, which had been the case back in First Year, when everyone disliked the idea of a Black infiltrating Gryffindor, notorious for their Light wizards and witches.

 _Moony, you sly wolf! I never knew you had such dirty thoughts! But Janie's too clingy for my liking.’_ He added a quick doodle of the Giant Squid for comparison. _'Like I told Professor McGonagall, lads, I was with some Hufflepuff. He had a go at me for that thing at breakfast yesterday! The porridge-Ravenclaw fiasco.'_

Sirius watched Professor McGonagall for a few seconds, and then spun around. James and Remus were sat at the desk behind him, doing as expected; James looking around in boredom, and their wolfy friend taking note. He dropped the folded parchment in front of James and jogged Remus’ hand, creating a long ink scratch across the other boy’s parchment for fun.

He swung around before he could Professor McGonagall noticed, hiding his smirk behind his long hair. Oh, it was good to be bad, that was for sure.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they left the Transfigurations classroom James was on him faster than flies to honey. Sirius let him, hoping to delay their progress to History of Magic with Professor Binns for as long as possible.

"What happened with the Hufflepuff? You kick his arse?" He looked both hopeful and gossip-hungry. Remus suddenly jolted at his side and Sirius shot him a confused look. His friend shrugged, so Sirius let the strange moment go, thinking it was some sort of pre-Moon jitters. It wouldn't be out of character, especially so close to the Full.

Sirius sighed. "'Fraid not, Prongs-y." He touched his fingers to his trousers and held his hand up to show the tacky ink stains. "He was too busy crying over his essay to be cowed by my rugged charms and manly stature."

"And by manly stature, do you mean the fact that you're shorter than most of the girls in Third Year?" James replied with a cheerful smirk. Sirius punched his shoulder and attempted to tower over his friends as they walked, which was difficult as he stood at a measly 5'5. Even Evans was taller than he was. _Regulus_ was taller and he was the younger brother. Even Wormtail. His height never bothered him, as Sirius was certain he'd soon have his long-awaited growth spurt. After all; it wasn't possible he could stay shorter than his little brother forever. He wouldn't allow that to happen!

"Shut your mouth, Potter! That's a lie and you know it. One day I'm going to wake up seven feet tall, kick your arse to Diagon Alley and back, and then who'll be laughing?"

James ruffled his hair and Sirius slapped his hand away, smoothing the disarranged curls back into place. "Sure you will, Pads. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Leave him alone, James," Remus sighed, not looking up from his book. Even in the busy hallway, he seemed able to avoid the crowds as he walked, a special skill that could either be werewolf-induced or a facet of why Remus was Remus. "Don't listen to him, Sirius." A devilish smirk crawled across his face. "I'm sure one day you'll be able to see at Quidditch matches without me giving you a piggyback ride."

Sirius opened and closed his mouth in stunned anger, then smiled dangerously. "Oh, Moony. Very witty, but I'll get you for this!"

"And my little dog too?" Remus asked. Peter choked on his sandwich and James immediately began cracking up. Sirius looked at each of his friends, in turn, lost.

Oh, it was another Muggle reference, he knew it! _"What?"_

 

* * *

 

"What'll it be today, lads?" James asked, rubbing his hands together as he surveyed the grandiose collection of lunch items running up and down the Gryffindor table. "Pasties? Soup?" He salivated. _"Bacon sarnie?"_

Sirius rolled his eyes. "You and your sodding bacon sandwiches, Prongs. It's disgusting how a Wizard of your rank can eat such... _peasant_ food. I'm far more cultured than that!"

Remus snorted into his soup. "Oh, yes. Because marmalade and bananas are very popular among the wealthy."

"I'll have you know, Lupin," Sirius sniffed in mock disdain. "That us Blacks eat it every morning with the souls of the Muggles we harvest."

"Sounds delicious," Remus deadpanned, spearing some carrots on his fork.

"It is," Sirius assured, buttering his bread from crust to crust, and layering on the banana slices in neat rows. He applied the marmalade to the other piece of toast and pressed the halves together into a sandwich. Taking a big bite, he moaned exaggeratedly, choking with laughter at his friends' varying expressions of disgust.

Someone scoffed behind him, and Sirius shuffled around on the bench, coming face to face with an annoyed Lily Evans and her trio of sheep.

"Evans!" James shouted, jerking in place, nearly upending his pumpkin juice in Sirius' lap. "What are you doing here?! I mean - ...Ready to accept my offer of a date?" He beamed.

One of Evans' sheep - Lizzie? - tittered behind her hand, and received a glare from the other two girls. She was a Gryffindor, though, so the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were far less inclined to act out of turn.

"Not on your life," Evans hissed, folding her arms. "I'm actually here to talk to you, _Black."_ She looked at Sirius, who narrowed his eyes and ignored the suspicious looks James was sending him.

He leant forward. "To me? What for?"

"Oh, don't play innocent!" Evans cried, stamping her foot. "I want to speak to you about what you said to Michael." She gave him a meaningful look like he'd drop to his knees and start bawling, begging for forgiveness of her Royal Highness, Princess Prefect.

Sirius sighed. "The Ravenclaw?"

"So, you did do something!" Evans cried, smiling, smug in triumph. Her sheep slunk back at this, ducking their heads a little as people began to turn and whisper. "I knew it! You'd never miss a chance to pick on another student."

Irritated, Sirius turned back to his lunch, taking a delicate sip of his pumpkin juice. He could feel quite a few pairs of eyes watching him, but he kept a straight face as he set down his cup. A hand landed on his shoulder and Sirius swung his legs over the bench, shooting to his feet. Evans took an instinctive step backwards, her hand withdrawing, whilst James and Remus rose half out of their seats. Teeth gritted, Sirius clenched his fists at his sides, resisting the urge to go for his wand. _Don't do it, Black,_ he warned himself. _You'll be the one that gets into trouble..._

"Back off."

She seemed to harden at his warning and a slight sneer spread across her face. Plenty of people were staring at the spectacle they were making, and the Hall had lessened in noise quite a lot.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Evans snapped, her face becoming red with anger. It clashed with her hair and Sirius took some satisfaction in that, if only a little. "You're just like your family, Black! A leopard can't change its spots aft -"

Sirius lunged forward, prepared to punch the bitch in her smug little face. James was quick, though, and he wrapped his arms around his fellow Marauder's chest, holding him back with all his might, which was rather considerable after four years of playing Quidditch for the Gryffindor team. "Stop it, Pads!"

"Mister Black, Miss Evans!" Professor McGonagall snapped, striding towards them with her green robe flapping behind her. "Stop this at once!"

"Let go of me Prongs!" Sirius hollered, thrashing in his friend's grip. "I'm not going to do anything, honest! I'll only hurt her a little bit! Jus'... _lemme at her!"_

"Language!" Professor McGonagall shrilled. "My office, you three! Now."

 

* * *

 

"This is your fault."

Sirius ignored James' accusation, staring out of the window and down onto the Quidditch Pitch. The first years were preparing to take a flying lesson, most were chatting and messing around as they waited for Madame Hooch.

"If I get detention, Black..." Evans warned.

Teeth grinding, Sirius heaved a sigh of annoyance. "Oh, bugger  _off,_ Evans. You act all high and mighty, like butter wouldn't melt. But _you_ confronted _me._ I wasn't doing anything and you came up and started throwing accusations. I told you to leave and you insulted me. Had things been the other way around they would have suspended me for bullying. If  _Mudblood,"_ he took quite a bit of pleasure in drawing the word out, "had even slipped past my lips you'd have been all over me for discrimination, but because my family is Pureblood you think you can say whatever you want. Newsflash Evans, that's not how the world works. Had you insulted my Father like that you would've been dead before you hit the ground. So if the detention is all you're concerned about, you need to rethink your priorities and decide if you want to act like a spoiled little _bitch_ or the responsible adult you claim to be."

There was silence for a few moments, before Evans made a disquieted noise, taken down a peg or two. James didn't say anything, although in the corner of his eye Sirius could see his fellow Gryffindor’s clenched fists. At least he knew where his friend's loyalty lay. Nor had it escaped his notice that James and Evans were sat close together, banishing Sirius to the chair on the other end of Professor McGonagall's desk.

Restless, he stood up and wandered over to the glass cabinet Professor McGonagall kept an array of magical trinkets in. He recognised a few that they had at Grimmauld Place; a Hand of Glory, a shard of a Foe Glass, a Revealer, and an ancient looking Sneakoscope with a cracked top.

He ran his fingers over one of the shelves and tapped his fingers a small wooden box. It was hexagonal in shape and seemed to be for holding jewellery. Sirius found that strange, as Professor McGonagall wasn't the type to wear such a thing, so he picked up the box and shook it. A faint tinkling reached his ear, as well as the scrape of some sort of metal chain against wood.

"Leave that alone, Pads," James said. "You don't know what it could be."

Sirius had been about to do that, but upon hearing the other boy's warning, he felt the overwhelming urge to do the complete opposite. He popped the lid open and set it down on one of the glass shelves.

A golden necklace sat on a bed of worn blue velvet. The centrepiece was a small hourglass surrounded by several moveable hoops. Sirius felt his breath freeze in his chest.

_A time turner?_

He hadn't seen one of them in years, not since the Ministry removed a box of about twenty from their house. His parents hadn't objected because the Aurors had overlooked all the other illegal Dark artefacts in Grimmauld Place.

Before he could change his mind, Sirius picked up the long, rusty gold chain and pulled the necklace out of its box, which he left next to the lid. He turned around and held it aloft for the other two to see.

James' mouth dropped open and Evans seemed unimpressed. He could tell she had no idea what he was showing them and was trying to not feel out of her depth.

"Padfoot!" James cried, jumping to his feet. His voice rose in pitch. "Put that _back._ You know how dangerous those things are!"

Smirking, Sirius slipped the chain over his head and admired the hourglass resting against his chest. "Make me!" He dared, planting his hands on his hips. The timeturner was old and most likely not working anymore, plus he enjoyed seeing the panic on his friend's face. Evans was angry about being out of the loop, but what else was new.

"Really, Sirius," James urged. "Don't mess with it. The chain looks rusty."

Sirius felt his smile slip from his face. "Oh, come on, Prongs. It's fine. Mum had tons of time turners when I was a kid. I know what I'm doing." And the chain? Sure, it was a bit damaged, but not enough to be a danger. To prove his point Sirius gave the golden pendant a gentle flick and watched it swing from side to side. "See? It's fi -"

The hourglass shattered at his feet.

 

* * *

 


	2. cadere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are a little too short for my liking at first as we get into the real meat of the story, but please tell me what you think!
> 
> P.S. 'cadere" means 'to fall', which I thought was very apt.

“- Sirius! Get up you lazy sod!”

Sirius opened his eyes, rolled over and blinked up at the red awning covering his bed. What a weird dream. He rarely dreamt and when he did, it definitely wasn't that so vivid. It had all felt so _real._ His anger at Evans, the resentment at his friends for not having his back, the heat from the sand in the hourglass...

"Pads? Are you awake?" Prongs asked from where he sat astride Sirius' legs. Remus was sat on his own bed, lacing his shoes. Peter had taken over the mirror to consider his hair for the day. It looked the same as it always did, so Sirius had no idea why he had to look so embarrassed.

"Sirius?" Remus asked, frowning.

With a shake of his head, Sirius propped himself up onto his elbows, kicking his legs until James climbed off him. "Oh right. I guess I'm a little out of it. What were you saying, Moony?" He slid out of bed and stretched, pyjama bottoms close to slipping off his hips. He nudged past James and grabbed his school shirt.

"I was going to ask if you want us to leave and let you sleep, but it seems you've answered my question now." Finished with his laces and finger-combing his hair to one side, Remus shot him a suspicious look. "Why are you up so late anyway? You're usually awake before the sun rises."

"Yeah!" James cried, only then realising that for himself. He rounded on the other black-haired boy. "What gives, Paddy? Didn't sleep well?"

Rolling his eyes, Sirius stepped into his trousers. He pulled on his unbuttoned shirt and began lacing his tie. What's with all the questions? I'm tired, s'all. Nothing sinister."

"You were crying last night," Peter piped up.

There was a short silence and Sirius couldn't help but shoot his friend a scathing glare. "Thank you for your very _helpful_ input, Wormtail. Could you not tell people that I happened to cry like a baby in my sleep, though? That'd be _great."_

"It's nothing to get embarrassed about -" James insisted.

Sirius cut him off. "I know that, Prongs. I'd rather pretend it didn't happen, though. You feel like you're going to blurting out anything else about me, huh Pete? Professor McGonagall calls on you in class and instead of 'question six' you say 'did you know Sirius' parents sometimes lock him in the cellar?'. Or 'he uses magic at home because the Ministry doesn't care what the Black family do'. You could even screw Moony and Prongs over too! 'Guess what we did last year, ma'am! We became Animagi so we could hang out with a werewolf!'"

Peter's skin had turned a very strong shade of magenta, and James finally stepped in. "Enough! He didn't mean to say that, and you know it."

Of course, he didn't mean to but that didn't change the fact that he _did._  The Ministry wasn't going to forgive and forget because Peter didn't _bloody mean it_!

Sirius knew he had a temper. Even someone looking at him wrong could send him into a frenzy, but his friends held him back when that happened. As a child he'd had a short fuse, too; screaming his head off when Kreacher heated his milk to the wrong temperature! His mother used to praise him for 'knowing his own importance as a Pureblood and heir to the Black family'. It wasn't anything like that, he...well, it felt like everyone was out to get him. The girl in the hall didn't like his jokes, but she also could be plotting to frame him for something. And the old woman in Hogsmeade might be friendly, but her motive could also be more sinister.

"Helllllooo? Earth to Sirius! You okay in there, buddy?"

Sirius blinked out of his daydream and found James smirked at him, amused. Peter still looked mortified and Remus was tapping his foot by the door. "What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine - thinking," He shoved Peter's shoulder. "Cheer up, Wormtail. I forgive you for being an idiot."

Peter opened his mouth and closed it a couple of moments later. He nodded.

"Great!" James cheered, skipping over to where Remus stood, "To breakfast!" He threw the door open and headed out, fist held aloft. Remus followed slower, rolling his eyes.

Sirius grabbed his shoes and slung his satchel over his shoulder. "Come on, Petey Pie!"

 

* * *

 

When he arrived in the Common Room, Sirius found himself stared at by what seemed to be everyone in sight. He looked to Remus for help, only to find his friend rolling his eyes. Again. If he did that too often it would soon become annoying.

James coughed. "Paddy. Look down."

Sirius did as instructed. "Oh yeah." He began buttoning up his shirt, pulling his tie out so it was on top. _That's_ what that draft had been. And the staring.

Everyone had gone back to their business by the time he looked up. The lads stared at him with shades of amusement, like they could talk. James always seemed like an owl was nesting in his hair and Remus had ink on his face. Peter didn't even deign to mention.

“Ready?” Remus asked.

Sirius grinned, sauntering past his friends and towards the exit. “Yeah. Hey, guys, why are people looking at me like we look at Snivellus?”

“I guess everyone's mad about our breakfast prank yesterday,” James shrugged.

“The Ravenclaws are saying that the boy you ‘pranked’ is crying in the bathroom,” Remus said. Merlin Bless his beautiful werewolf-y hearing.

The Fat Lady swung up and they started to descend one of the moving staircases. Students moved aside so they could pass, but Sirius paid them no mind. He had more important things to focus on. Like weird coincidences.

He asked, feigning apathy, “hasn’t he got over that yet?”

A very familiar face seemed to materialise out of nowhere in front of him. Sirius stopped so he wouldn’t run into whatshisface. Huh. He was definitely having déjà vu.

“Of course he hasn’t!” The Hufflepuff shouted. “You humiliated him in front of the entire school!”

“Get out of my face, kid,” Sirius snarled.

“Make me, Black! You only pick on people not strong enough to defend - !”

Sirius decked him hard enough that the other boy stumbled back and hit the nearest surface.

Which wouldn’t have been too bad if said surface hadn’t been the bannister of the moving staircase. It wouldn't have been so bad had Hufflepuff not toppled over the side.

But it was bad.

Everyone started screaming, running to see if their classmate was alright. They all clambered to peer over the edge, someone yelling ‘Fetch a professor! Get Madame Pomfrey!’ as others ran downstairs to get a better look.

Sirius bolted in the other direction. He went up instead of down and skidded to a stop in front of the Fat Lady. Her mouth was open and she seemed unable to tear her eyes away from his face.

“Liquorice!” He snapped and she swung open without a sound, still in shock.

Merlin, _she_ was in shock and she hadn’t even _done_ anything. Sirius had been the one to push the kid! He was a murderer. They were going to ship him off to Azkaban and the worst part was how proud his family would be with him.

‘Sirius, dear, we always knew you were a Black deep down. Now, let’s see about getting you out of this little mess, hm?’ His mother’s voice said in that sickly-sweet tone she used to use. When he was little and still functioning under the delusion that Mommy was the best. Second only behind Daddy, of course.

Sirius tore through the Common Room and up the stairs to the dormitory, chest heaving. He locked the door with a flick of his hand and threw his satchel on the floor. He dropped himself next to it and rested his cheek on the cold wood, his breath coming in uneven bursts. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_!

“Please be a dream,” He begged. “Like that stupid timeturn…” His eyes popped open. _“Timeturner.”_

This couldn't be a coincidence. Everything had happened like it had in his dream. _Was_ it a dream? Things hadn't gone exactly the same but it was all too synced for something not to be happening.

 _Was he still asleep?_ Sirius pinched his arm and hoped for the sensation of waking from a nightmare.

A few seconds past. Nothing happened.

“Okay,” he said aloud. “Not asleep. So...premonition?” But that didn't make any sense! Why would he foresee something that happened in a different way then when he awake?

“A warning?” He mused. If that was the case then he needed to take his dream-omens with more severity. Though...not that it would matter now. Not when he would soon on trial for murder and sent to Azkaban.

There was a noise outside the door. Sirius whipped his head around, heart thundering in his ears, babump-babump-babump. Were they here to arrest him already? He sat up, not even daring to breathe.

The handle began to turn...Hadn't he locked that?

Another floorboard creaked.

“Hello?” Sirius hesitated. “James? Remus?”

The door opened. The hallway was empty, but there was a cold draft that lifted his hair and inspired goosebumps. Sirius slid to his feet. He took a few hesitant steps forward so that stood in the doorway, peering out into the empty hall.

There was nothing. No professor or ministry official was hiding in the shadows to arrest him and sweep him off to Azkaban. Weird. He looked up the narrow staircase that led to the upper dorms in time to catch a glimpse of a disappearing shadow.

“Hey!” He shouted. “Hey, you!”

Sirius hurried up the stairs, shoes stepping on every squeaky floorboard there was. He pushed into the Seventh Year Boys’ dorm. There was no one in there. Not a sausage.

One of the windows flew open, crashing against the stone wall with an almighty ‘BANG’. Sirius jumped, ran to said window and stared out. A black-cloaked figure was hovering on a broom a few dozen feet away, head turned in his direction. It was eerie and for a few long moments, Sirius stayed frozen.

But that was only for a moment.

“Who are you?” He spat. “What House are you in?” He couldn't imagine a fellow housemate tormenting the Prince of Gryffindor. (That nickname was his own creation, to be honest, though.) It was a _Slytherin,_ most likely.

The figure swayed closer and then Sirius could see how small he was. Definitely not tall enough to be a Professor, though he didn't know why they'd do such a thing anyway. Was it a girl, then? Evans?

He leant further out the window, bracing himself on the sill. “Hey! Answer me!”

“Sorry about this, Sirius,” the figure said, voice male. “It's not personal.”

“What's not personal?” He demanded as the man got within grabbing distance. Sirius braced himself. “What do you want from me?”

A hand shot out a latched onto his collar, pulling him over the ledge and out into the voice of nothingness. Mouth opening, Sirius let out a gasp. Breathing cut short as he hit the roof below and rolled down the shingles, his body ragdolling.

The figure caught him as he reached the edge, a foot held out to stop him from falling onto the hard ground below. For a second Sirius panted in shock, staring up at his would-be murderer with his heart in his throat.

Then his voice returned.

“Circe!” Sirius yelled, attempting to scramble away from the edge. The figure held strong, keeping him in place with the foot that wasn't braced on his broom. “You could've killed me!”

“Yeah,” the figure sighed. He reached up and pulled back his cloak. “We know.”

“What in the seven layers,” Sirius said, pulse thundering. “What are - who - _polyjuice ?!”_

“Nope,” the person who looked like him _what the actual fuck_ smiled. “Remember that time turner?”

“...The one I smashed in my dream?” Sirius said. “Am I still asleep?” He begged, staring up into a version of his own face he'd rarely seen. It was so _stern_ looking.

“Unfortunately not,” Other-Sirius said, frowning. There was blood smeared across his cheek and jaw, disappearing under the collar of his cloak. “It's all very confusing, but I'm you from the future, come back to stop you messing things up.”

“You're kidding. Me from the _future?_ How do I know you're not some crazy guy trying to kill me with mind games and by throwing me off a roof?”

“Because you murdered someone and if I know us - which I do - then we don't want to end up in Azkaban for the rest of our lives! Right?”

“Right,” Sirius coughed. “So pulling me out a window was your solution?”

“That wasn't my solution,” Other-Sirius said. “My solution is to drop you off this roof, too. But that's after we talk.”

Sirius swallowed. He propped himself up, bracing one foot against the lip of the shingles. “Oh,” he said, rather calm in the face of his impending death at his own hands. “...What do we have to talk about?”

“Our attitude,” Other-Sirius snapped. “It's not good, s’what it is. Being stuck in time for a hundred years will give you a good perspective on life.”

“Wait, I must've misheard you. Did you say a hundred _years_ stuck in time? As in - repeating the same day over and over? _This_ day?”

Other-Sirius jerked his head in the affirmative. “Uh-huh,” he said. “Same day, every day. We wake up in bed, get confronted by DiSalvori, argue with Evans, fight with James, get detention. Some things can change, y'know.”

“DiSalvori? Isn't that -”

“Italian Pureblood family, yeah.”

“So that Hufflepuff boy…” Sirius trailed off.

“Is Don Enzo’s youngest son? Mm-hm. His name is Mateo, by the way.” Other-Sirius glanced over his shoulder, expression troubled. “Hey, look, I have to go now. I was going to give you the run by of what to do, but it looks like I'll have to cut it short for now.”

“Hey - !”

“Try and be a bit friendlier, okay?” Other-Sirius cut across. “Not everyone’s out to get us.”

“Wait - !”

“And do make an effort not to kill anyone, will you? That part is always horrible.”

“Stop!” Sirius exclaimed, shaking his head. “I don't understand what you're talking about! Isn't there time to talk about this?”

“Yes,” Other-Sirius said.”There's always time. But...not right now.”

“ _SIRIUS!!”_

His head whipped around. Sirius stared up at James, who was hanging from their dormitory window. His face was completely ashen, a strange comparison with his dark skin. He looked ready to jump out at any moment. “ _Sirius! What're you doing?!"_

“Prongs!” Sirius called back. “I - what -”

“There are Aurors crawling around the castle! That Hufflepuff...he's. You.”

“He's dead,” Sirius filled in, refusing to cry. “I'm going to Azkaban, aren't I?”

“No! Or, well...I'll floo my parents...Okay, please? _Come here, Siri._ My Dad can sort this all out!”

Sirius sobbed a laugh. “How, James?! How can he sort this out? I _killed_ someone! I'll be lucky if they don't give me The Kiss right away!”

“You're right,” Other-Sirius shrugged. “That's exactly what they'll do. But if you jump it'll all reset. You'll be back with everything as it was when you woke up. A do-over. The second one.”

“I'm not going to jump!” Sirius yelled at him.

James yelled back. “Good! Good, I’m holding you to that, but Paddy... _Please_ come here...I need to make sure you won't.”

“Shut up, Prongs,” Other-Sirius muttered before his voice increased in volume. “I'm sorry, Sirius, but there's no other way. This is how things have to be this go around.”

“No!” James screamed as Other-Sirius removed his foot and Sirius slid down the shingles and off the roof. “ _Sirius!"_

Sirius cried out as he fell, the ground rushing up to meet him. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact. He was going to kill -

 

* * *

 


	3. veritas

“- Sirius! Get up you lazy sod!”

Sirius opened his eyes. He rolled over and stared at the red awning hanging over his bed for several seconds, then sat up.

James was standing over him, whilst Remus sat on his bed so he could tie his shoes. Peter was doing his hair in the mirror.

"I was going to ask if you want us to leave and let you sleep, but it seems you've answered my question now." Finished with his laces and finger-combing his hair to one side, Remus shot him a suspicious look. "Why are you up so late anyway? You're usually awake before the sun rises."

"Yeah!" James cried, only then realising that for himself. He rounded on the other black-haired boy. "What gives, Paddy? Didn't sleep well?"

Rolling his eyes, Sirius stepped into his trousers. He pulled on his unbuttoned shirt and began lacing his tie. What's with all the questions? I'm tired, s'all. Nothing sinister."

"You were crying last night," Peter piped up.

Sirius opened his mouth, paused and then shook his head. “What the bleeding heck,” he said, scrambling out of bed. He stormed across the room, bare feet slapping on the floorboards and threw open the door.

“Sirius?” James said, sounding alarmed. “You alright, mate?”

“You smell weird,” Remus added.

Ignoring them, Sirius ran up the stairs in his pyjama bottoms. He kicked open the door to the Seventh Year dorm like a crazy maniac. The boys inside close to jumped out of their skin as they swung around to face him.

“What the Hell d’you think you're doing, Black?!” Davey Gudgeon yelled, covering his bare chest. The other boys were also in various states of undress. “You can't - hey!”

Sirius pushed past him and threw open the window. He almost fell out as he craned his neck for any sort of glimpse of the other, self-murdering, him. “I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME, YOU DEMENTED COPYCAT!!” He bellowed. “COME BACK HERE AND FACE ME LIKE A REAL WIZARD!!”

“Is he insane?!” Adrian Dutch shrieked.

“It looks like Black’s finally gone the way of his family,” Bertram Aubrey remarked. “Any idea what set him off, Lupin?”

“THE NEXT TIME WE MEET YOU WON’T BE SO LUCKY!” Sirius continued, screaming into the wind. “I'LL CURSE YOUR HEAD OFF!”

James grabbed his leg and attempted to haul him back into the room. He struggled as Sirius began kicking his feet. “Paddy!” He grunted. “What's going on? Were you hexed?”

“What’s he screaming about?” Davey asked. “Something to do with a fight?”

James finally managed to get a good enough grip on his legs. He pulled him back, both of them landing in a tangled heap on the floor. Remus stood over them, hands on his hips.

“Sirius!” He ordered. “Sirius, _stop_.”

“I can't, Remus,” Sirius mumbled. He let his head drop back to the floor with a satisfying ‘thunk’. “The other Sirius’ trying to kill me.”

“He's gone ‘round the bend,” Bertram said, awed. “Black’s finally lost it.”

“Shut it, Aubrey,” James snapped, sitting up and rubbing his temple. “Geez, Paddy, you're strong for such a little guy.”

“Sirius, what's wrong?” Remus coaxed. “Do I need to fetch a professor?”

“Seems like,” Adrian muttered. “Or better yet; fetch someone from the Ministry so they can lock him up in St. Mungo’s with the rest of the nutters.”

“I'm not nutty,” Sirius muttered, though even he wasn't so sure that was true. Was he going mental like his mum? Would she always influence his life in some way? “I...I had a dream.”

Davey scoffed. “A _dream?_ You went crazy ‘cause of a _dream_?”

“It was a nightmare,” Sirius defended. “I thought...Never mind.” He untangled his legs from James’ and stood up. Sirius tried to look as dignified as possible in his pyjama bottoms.

“See you later, lads. Gudgeon, Dutch, Aubrey.” He nodded them each in turn and then left the room, head held high.

As soon as he was out of sight, Sirius bolted back down the stairs and into their dorm. He nudged the door shut. Peter was sat on his bed, fiddling with his satchel.

“Are you….okay, Sirius?” He asked, coughing.

Sirius ignored his friend and climbed onto his bed. He buried himself under the covers to block out as much noise as possible.

The door opened.

“Wormtail?” James said, sounding a little lost. “Is - ?”

“He’s sulking again,” Peter suggested. “See?”

Remus tutted and Sirius felt his presence appear beside the bed, stern. But also concerned. “Paddy?” He soothed, sitting down on the mattress beside Sirius’ legs. “Fancy telling me what that was all about?”

“I’m not crazy,” Sirius mumbled into his pillow. “I’m not.”

“‘Course you’re not, mate!” James said with false enthusiasm. “You're as sane as the rest of us.” That wasn’t saying much, though. “But. I mean, why did you start yelling at nobody? I know you said it was a nightmare, but…” He trailed off, leaving the question hanging. They all knew Sirius got regular night terrors, but none had ever caused him to become so...rabid.

“I…” Sirius said, mortified about having everyone fuss over him. “I got a letter from Father yesterday.” True, but it made him feel like a complete arse about twisting it to make him seem somewhat sane. “I’m disinherited. Reg’s the heir to the family now and I may as well be Thestral dung in their eyes.” Invisible, that is. “I was...I had a dream about it last night, s’all. Sorry for freaking you all out.”

There was a short silence in which he was positive they exchanged glances over his head.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Siri?” Remus asked, frowning. “We would’ve…”

“You would’ve what?” Sirius demanded, lifting his head to shoot his friend a fierce glare. “Don’t kid yourself, lads - there’s nothing you or anyone else can say to my parents to make them change their minds. They’ve been biding their time since I got sorted and now that I’m seventeen I’m an adult in the eyes of the Ministry. They won’t interfere, especially since my family is Pureblood Dark Arts.”

“This is so unfair,” James muttered.

“It’s whatever,” Sirius said, returning his face to his pillow. Remus ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the skin behind his ear like he often did when Padfoot was out to play. “Look. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the company, fellas, but aren’t you going to be late for class if you hang around much longer? You’ll miss breakfast.”

“I couldn’t care less about breakfast when my best friend’s upset,” James grumbled. Sirius could picture the idiotic expression on his face. “Right, lads?”

Peter cleared his throat. “Uh, actually -”

“Right,” Remus agreed. He dug his nails in hard enough that a shiver worked its way across Sirius’ body. “We’ll skip class today.”

Sirius took a deep breath and shoved any dark thoughts he had into the back of his mind. Where he kept the rest of the stuff he didn’t want to think about; Uncle Alphard, Reggie, the cellar, his parents, etc. He sat up. “Nah,” he said. “I’ll handle it. You guys go on ahead; I’ll get ready and meet you in Transfigurations.”

James and Remus looked at each other, having a silent conversation with their eyes. Peter shuffled to his feet, straightening his red and gold tie.

“Alright,” James said. “But I’ll hold you to that.”

“Of course you will,” Sirius said. He smiled around a grimace. “You always do.”

 

* * *

 

 

They walked to the Great Hall in near complete silence. Peter tried to chat, but Sirius tuned him out and the conversation soon dwindled.

Almost at the same time, James came to a complete stop as he stared at a familiar head of red hair. Evans was stood by the entrance with her sheep in a heated discussion with them.

“Hey, Evans!” James crowed and Remus sighed in second-hand embarrassment, “Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Interrupted in the middle of her angry rant, Evans spun around with a fiery glare on her face. “Now is not the right time for games, Potter!”

“It’s always the right time for games, my dear Lily-flower!” James grinned, sauntering over to her. Sirius hung back even as Peter trailed after their ringleader. Remus followed suit to keep things in check.

“Don’t call me that,” she ordered, before smiling at their werewolf friend. “Hello, Remus. Have you got your Charms essay back?”

“Not yet,” Remus said, smiling in return. “But I spoke with Professor Flitwick yesterday evening and he said we should get them today.”

Evans sighed, visibly relieved. She traded a glance with one of her little friends, before letting her eyes trail over the four boys. “Pettigrew,” she nodded. “How’s your sister?”

“O-Oh,” Peter spluttered, surprised at having spoken to. “She’s okay now. My mum thinks it might’ve been the flu.”

“That’s good,” Evans said. Her pleasant smile completely slipped away when they landed on the fourth Marauder. Sirius was at the back, glaring. “Black.”

Sirius lifted his gaze from the floor. He tilted his head. “Morning, Evans.”

There was a short, tension-filled silence before Lizzie, Evans’ friend, cried out. “Lily says you were the one who made Michael cry!”

“Lizzie!” Evans snapped, sending the other girl a sharp glare.

Lizzie winced. “Sorry!”

“Well since we're talking about it,” Evans sighed, frowning. “ _Yes,_ I did say that. Do you deny it, Black?”

“Uh, Lily-flower,” James said. “Now isn’t the best time?”

“Yeah, Lily,” one of the two girls Sirius didn’t know the names of said. This one had long brown hair, oval glasses and was wearing Ravenclaw robes. “A Professor could come out at any moment and we’d get into trouble for arguing. Can’t it wait until after our classes? Besides,” she traded a glance with Lizzie. “He doesn’t look too good this morning. Are you sick, Sirius?”

“Oh, don’t let him fool you with his little angel routine, Jane!" Evans cried. "This is how he tricks people into doing what he wants." She gave him a meaningful look, which Sirius didn’t bother returning. What was the point?

He sighed, sending a longing glance at the Great Hall. He was _starving._ “Look, Evans. I’m not in the mood right now.”

“Yeah, he had a nightmare,” Peter piped in. Remus nudged him with one pointy elbow. “Ouch! Hey, what was that for?!”

“A nightmare? So?”

Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. He opened them again and stared at Evans with a hard, emotionless expression. “I’m only going to say this once, Evans; don’t start something you’re not going to finish. I have no patience for accusations right now. If you want to wait until the weekend when you can insult my family all you like, then go ahead. But now? Now’s not going to end well.”

"Don't tell me what to do!" Evans snapped, her face becoming red with anger. "You're like your family, Black! A leopard can't change its spots after all."

Sirius blinked.

“Lily!” Remus said, anger underpinning his voice. “I know you’re angry, but that’s no excuse for insults.”

Evans opened her mouth. Sirius pulled out his wand and hexed it shut.

“Padfoot!” James spluttered. “You can’t hex my girlfriend!!”

“Mm nmm yrr gfn,” Evans mumbled.

“What?” Peter asked, frowning in confusion.

“She said she’s not his girlfriend,” the other girl translated, this one a Hufflepuff. She had dark blonde hair and a pair of silver earrings. “And I’m going to tell Professor Dumbledore about this, Sirius Black! You can’t go around hexing girls!”

“What, so I can hex boys?” He snarked. “And fine, tell him. See if I care. And, for the record, it’s _Headmaster_ Dumbledore.” From what Other-Sirius said it wouldn’t matter anyway. In fact… “Actually, I’ll do you one better!”

Sirius turned on his heel and marched into the Great Hall. The six other students followed after him.

“Paddy!” James hissed as he hurried after his best-friend. “Pads, what’re you doing!?”

Everyone turned to watch Sirius Black march towards the Head Table. He passed right by his brother and all the other slimy Slytherins, but Sirius didn’t even spare them a glance. His sights were set on bigger things.

He pulled to a stop on the stage right in front of Professor McGonagall. The other Professors looked up. Headmaster Dumbledore stared at him, bushy white eyebrows raised in amusement. James, too chicken to follow his friend, hung back with Remus at the foot of the steps. Peter, Evans and her friends were waiting a bit further back.

“Mister Black?” Professor McGonagall pressed. “May I help you?” The Great Hall was completely silent as they waited for his response.

“Yes, Professor, you may,” Sirius said. “In fact...” He swung around to dress the room, grinning. “Hello, everyone!”

Professor McGonagall said, “This is quite enough -”

Sirius cut through. “I’d like to make an announcement! Lucius Malfoy had sex with my cousin Bellatrix _after_ he got engaged to my _other_ cousin Narcissa!” The students burst into conversation at this juicy piece of gossip. Narcissa stared at Lucius, her face ashen. Bellatrix giggled as everyone turned to look at a seething Lucius.

“Mister Black!” Professor Sinistra shrieked, leaping to her feet.

“Announcement number two,” he held up a pair of fingers. “James Potter is an unregistered Animagus!”

James’ face went white. Whispered burst out across the room. Headmaster Dumbledore stood up, his blue eyes no longer twinkling with merriment. They looked like little chips of ice.

“And finally,” Sirius continued. He threw his arms out, baring pearly whites in gleeful abandon. “Remus Lupin is a werewolf.”

 

* * *

 

The next two hours passed by in one long blur, most of which Sirius spent regretting his many life choices. Headmaster Dumbledore had silenced everyone with a crack of thunder. His expression was as intense as he’d stared at Sirius with blue eyes that usually twinkled with joy. Now they were full of disappointment and anger.

A silent Professor McGonagall escorted him to the Headmaster’s Office. She left him there for close to twenty minutes before trooping back in. Behind her came the Headmaster, James, Mr and Mrs Potter, Mr Lupin and Evans.

They all sat on chairs, but Sirius’ faced them all, rather like he was on trial. He sat, blank-faced, with his chin up and back straight. James looked as if he’d like nothing better than to Avada Kedavra his (former) best friend.

There was a short silence before Mrs Potter asked, her voice gentle: “Why did you do it, Sirius? Remus is your friend.”

“Some friend,” James said. He shut up at a pointed look from Professor McGonagall, who turned an even colder glare on Sirius himself.

“That’s something I too would like to know, Mister Black. This is cause for expulsion.”

“Expulsion!?” Mr Lupin yelled, launching himself to his feet. “He ought to go to prison for slander! My Remus will never be able to find another school that will accept him.”

Sirius looked at his lap. “It’s not slander,” he sniffed. “Not if it’s true.”

“Be _quiet,_  Mister Black,” Professor McGonagall snapped. “You’ve already said quite enough, and, though I hate to admit it, he is correct. Sirius can't be in trouble with anything for telling the truth. Miser Lupin, your son _is_ a werewolf.”

“Shouldn’t your parents be here, Sirius?” Mrs Potter said. She was frowning at him, devastated at his actions. Sirius knew she saw him as a sort of hand-me-down second son.

“No,” Sirius said. “You wouldn’t want them to be. They’d throw me a party.”

“Be that as it may,” said Headmaster Dumbledore. Up until that moment had been watching the heated debate with calm intrigue. “I cannot allow this conversation to continue further until your guardians arrive, Sirius. Have you sent an owl to Mister and Missus Black, Professor?”

“I’ll speak for myself,” Sirius interjected. “I’m emancipated now. My parents disowned me yesterday, so there’s no one that will bother turning up.”

“Oh boo hoo!” Evans burst out. “This isn’t about you, this is about _Remus_!”

“I know this is about Remus!” Sirius launched himself to his feet. “What has this got to do with you anyway!?”

“MISTER BLACK. MISS EVANS,” Professor McGonagall called. “Please. Return to your seats.”

Evans, who had risen to her feet during her outbursts, sunk back down. But Sirius did not. “No,” he said. “No, I need to say this…Look, I know I messed up Remus’ life, but I had good reason to.”

“Good reason!?” Mr Lupin bellowed. “What sort of -”

“None of this is real,” Sirius revealed. “None of it will matter when I die. I’ll wake up in my bed again. It'll all repeat. Over and over. Forever.”

Headmaster Dumbledore stared at him for several long seconds. He then turned to a thin-lipped Professor McGonagall. “Minerva,” he whispered. “It would be best to fetch Madame Pomfrey now. Send for St. Mungo’s if you must.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Professor McGonagall said. She looked quite pale. “Right away.”

Sirius looked between them, then caught James’ eye. His best friend was looking at him, completely shaken. “Sirius,” he said. “Siri... You _have_ gone mad.”

“James!” Mr Potter snarled, angrier than Sirius had ever heard him sound. “James, that is _enough.”_

Mr Lupin forehead creased in confusion as he eyed Sirius with the same dark eyes his friend had. Coming to some sort of conclusion, he rubbed his sun-weathered face with a heavy sigh. “Mister Black,” he said. “Sirius. Do you realise the repercussions this will have for my Remus? What this will mean for him?”

Unbidden, Remus’ face popped into Sirius’ head. The petrified expression on his face..the tears...the way they lead him away, catatonic from shock. From betrayal... Sirius pushed away from the tendrils of guilt churning in his stomach. It didn’t matter. It was a test, s’all. A test to see if what Other-Sirius said was true.

But…

He looked at the anxious faces watching him. Even Headmaster Dumbledore appeared solemn.

 _Was_ he crazy? Had he actually gone completely loony? Had he imagined the entire debacle with the Hufflepuff and his future self? Only to ruin his friend’s life... He tried to picture how his mother acted when he was younger - when she wasn’t quite so batty. She’d been paranoid, always suspecting people of tricking her, and angrier, too. Believe it or not, but up until Sirius was about four she’d been remarkable alright for a Black-born Mother. Then the delusions had set in...the mood swings, the outbursts of uncontrollable rage...

It all fit.

He’d always been a tad paranoid, but he’d thought that was typical for someone of his ilk. You couldn’t completely ignore your upbringing, after all. Regulus was a twitchy bastard, too, but that didn’t mean there was a connection. Delusions? If it was real, then that would mean he was imagining things that weren’t true. Mood swings? Debatable.

But the rage…

Sirius could picture the surprised gasp DiSalvori made as he slipped back. The fire burning in his chest when James had to hold him back from climbing out of the Seventh Year boys’ dorm. And his outburst in the Great Hall? That couldn’t be sane.

He felt the overwhelming urge to vomit.

Oh, Merlin.

Some Gryffindor he was; betraying his friends, taking after his Mum more than he’d ever have wanted to.

“Black?” Evans said. “Are you alright? You look rather -”

Sirius didn’t get hear what he looked like, though he was sure whatever Evans had to say hadn’t been complimentary. He jumped out of his chair, shoved past Mr Lupin, then flew out of the door.

James called after him, making chase. “Padfoot! Paddy, stop!”

Faster than one would assume he could go by looking at him, Sirius fled down the spiral staircase. He ran down the hallway, tie flapping against his chest and throat.

“Sirius!” James repeated. He caught up to his friend by making use of his Quidditch reflexes and catching his arm as they reached a corner. He slammed the other boy up against a nearby wall, not budging at the squirming attempts to escape.

“Let me go, Prongs,” Sirius pleaded. He felt like the world was spinning under his feet, allowing him the opportunity to wiggle free. “Let me...I need to see Moony.”

“I doubt Remus wants to see you right now,” James said in a soft voice that belied his harsh words. He still kept the shorter boy pinned to the stone wall with a hand on each shoulder in case he tried to make a run for it. “And I don’t think you’d make much sense, besides. You look dreadful, mate.”

“I’m crazy,” Sirius said, agonised. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it of any lingering thought-cobwebs. “I’m completely nutters, Jamie. It’s. You noticed this morning, didn’t you? When I tried to climb out the window?”

“You’ve always been a bit odd, Siri,” James sighed. “Never thought you’d out Moony like that, though. Still don’t, actually. I don’t believe that was you making a decision with all your bits in order, Pads. You’d never put Remus through that if you were thinking right.”

Sirius scoffed, bitter. “And you? You’ll be lucky if there’s not a black mark on your Ministry record by tonight. An unregistered Animagus keeping company with an undocumented werewolf on school grounds? We’re all screwed. Remus’ll never get into a school again, never get a job. You can’t be an Auror with a black mark. And me? I’m fucked. I’ll be lucky to spend the rest of my life locked up in St. Mungo’s with the rest of the crazies. If they don’t dump me back with my relatives. You think they won’t kill me off for what I did to Lucius? They will. Trust me.”

James shook him. A little harder than he’d intended, judging by the wince that flickered across his features. _“Paddy._ Pads. _Enough,_ alright? Shut up. I won’t let you go back with your psycho family, okay? I’ll swear it on my magic if that’ll make you believe me. No matter how nutty you end up; we stick together, okay? You and I have been best friends since we were ten. We were pulling pranks together before we even got our Hogwarts letters. If you believe that doesn’t mean anything to me, then think again. You’re my number one.”

“Even before Evans?”

“Even before Lily,” James swore. “Prongs and Padfoot, yeah? Marauders against the world.”

Sirius studied his best friend’s face. He took in the messy black hair, dark skin and brown eyes obscured by rectangular glasses. There was a stubborn tilt to his chin. The way his jaw flexed told Sirius this was the most profound, honest thing he was ever going to hear out of James’ mouth.

“Alright,” he said, before summoning up a weak lopsided smile. “But you’re gonna want to let go of me now before I start expecting a kiss to seal the deal.”

James stepped back, smirking. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, relieved that the conversation was over. “You wish, Pads...Now, whaddya say we skip this joint and head into Hogsmeade? Grab a few butterbeers before it all goes down? Remus will understand.” The ‘I hope’ went unsaid.

“I dunno, Prongs...We’ll be in so much trouble,” Sirius said, still leaning against the wall. A beat passed, during which he loosened his tie and pasted an uncertain expression on his face. As James began to falter, Sirius allowed himself to grin. “I was only messing around. Besides, this may be the last drop of alcohol I get before they threw me in a padded room with no windows. So I say we make the most of it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius and James spent a good few hours getting completely hammered in the Hog’s Head. This was all under the watchful eye of the barman. They laughed at every cringe-inducing memory and thigh-slapping joke. In fact, they were so drunk they didn’t notice Mrs Potter storming into the pub until she was completely upon them.

“ _James Charlus Potter! Sirius Orion Black!_ What in Merlin’s Beard do you think you are _doing_!?” She had bellowed, causing a hush to fall across the room.

James had quelled under her fiery gaze. But Sirius was used to far worse than stern words from his own mother and had scoffed. “Getting sloshed before they lock me up, ‘course!” He’d slurred. “Doubt they’d let the crazy Black drink the good stuff once they get the self-hug jacket on me!”

The lecture after that had not been pleasant. At some point, Mr Potter had also turned up. Less temperamental than his wife, he explained that people were looking for them. Several of these people were Aurors. They thought that Sirius had convinced the unregistered Animagus to run off with him. To continue his reign of terror as a team.

James had laughed at that.

“Reign of terror!” He’d tittered. “I doubt Snuffles could scare Wormtail in this state!”

“Take that back!” Sirius remembered yelling, lurching up from his seat. “Take that back, you - !” He’d hit the floor with a loud thump, face smushed into the grimy floorboards and completely out for the count.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title was brought to you by my shameful plagiarism of cool-sounding latin. Here, 'veritas' means 'truth', which is both the name of the Roman Goddess of truth (daughter of Jupiter), and also where J.K. Rowling got the term 'veritaserum', so there's that.


	4. canicula

“- Sirius! Get up you lazy sod!”

He opened his eyes. He looked at James. He looked at Peter. He didn’t look at Remus.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Sirius said, sitting up. “This has to be a drunken hallucination.”

James shook his head, an amused smile teasing at his lips. “‘Fraid not, Paddy,” he said, swinging his arms and missing clipping Remus in the face as he did so by the smallest amount. “We’ve got one more day after this and then it’s Hogsmeade for us.”

“Full Moon,” Remus butted in. “Hogsmeade for _you._ I’m going to lock myself away in here and try not to go stir crazy.”

Sirius frowned. He hadn’t even thought about the Full. That...that didn’t make him feel any better about what he’d done the day before. In fact, he felt worse knowing that he’d betrayed his friend two days before he was due to transform. Remus was always on edge the days surrounding the Full Moon. More angry, more sad, just... _more._ And Sirius had told everyone.

“I’ll skip it,” he said, trying not to feel a little ashamed when the other three Marauders turned to eye him in surprise. Was he that bad of a friend that his offer shocked them so much? “Yeah, we can...do our homework or something.”

 _“Homework?”_ James spluttered, aghast. “Padfoot, are you sick?” He slapped a hand to the other boy’s forehead. “You don’t feel feverish. C’mon, let’s get him to the infirmary, Moony.”

“What? No! I’m fine!” Sirius cried. He kicked free of his sheets and slid out of bed, his bare feet pressing on the cold floorboards. “I. Ugh, forget it. Try and do something nice and people think you’ve gone crazy!” He winced as soon as the words left his mouth. A little too close to home, that was.

“Well,” Remus said. He and James exchanged a glance. “That’s nice of you, Pads, but I’ll think I'll manage. Didn’t you have a date planned, anyway?”

“A date,” Sirius said. “I have a date?”

“Polly Podmore,” Peter reminded. “She’s a year below us. Hufflepuff.”

Sirius tried to picture her face. He could sort of recall a chubby girl with curly hair and a sly, salacious red-lipped smile.

He winced.

_Ah._

Polly.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Well. I’m sure she’d be alright to reschedule, so long as she got her minute of fame with the notorious ladies’ man Sirius Black.” On a normal day his tone would’ve been haughty or boasting, but this time it came out lacklustre. Unamused.

James took notice. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He pressed, his expression softer, less teasing. “If you actually don’t feel good I can tell Minnie you’ve got a headache.”

"That’d explain why you’re up so late. You're awake before the sun rises on a good day," Remus said.

"I heard you crying last night," Peter piped up, trying to be helpful. “In your sleep.”

Sirius sighed. “Thanks, Pete.”

"It's not embarrassing," James shook his head. “Minnie understands -”

And that was the problem. She _did_ understand and he hated it. Most of the Professors knew about the ailments that plagued the four of them. Remus the werewolf. James the eternal worrier. Peter the boy who couldn't jog without needing an easy-breathing potion. Poor disowned Sirius with his crazy family and long, long history of night terrors.

“No,” he snapped a little harsher than he'd intended. “No, it’s fine. I’m - I’ll deal with it, okay? Let’s get to breakfast.”

 

* * *

 

 

Breakfast was uneventful. Evans didn’t confront him, nor did she make an appearance at all. Sirius ate marmalade on toast and a banana again. He wondered how long that was going to be his breakfast if what Other-Sirius said was true. It was good, sure, but for hundreds of years? He'd go stir crazy!

Sirius downed three glasses of juice and excused himself to the lavatory. “I’ll meet you in Transfig,” he’d smiled. “Save me a seat!”

He left the Great Hall and headed straight for the second floor. There was a boys bathroom that no one used by a shimmery blue statue of armour that saluted him when he passed. It was perfect for what he had planned and the saluting helped boost his ego in wonderful ways.

“Hey, you,” Sirius said as he passed said glowing armour. He received the customary, expected, and enjoyed response.

He pushed into the lavatory, humming to himself as he began to rinse his face at the taps. Sirius avoided direct eye contact with his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He couldn't stand the odd glimpse as he rubbed water across his cheeks and -

Sirius screeched. _“Holy Merlin!”_

A figure was standing a few feet behind him, staring blank-faced at him via the mirror. He spun around.

“Oh,” Hale said. “Hi.” His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his blonde hair in disarray from running his hands through it.

“You scared the crap out of me!” Sirius snapped, flushing in anger and embarrassment. He’d never admit to making such a high-pitched noise. Even if it was because he'd a stupid Ravenclaw shocked him half to death.

“Sorry,” said Hale. He scuffed a toe on the tiled floor. “I didn’t think anyone was in here...You caught me off guard...Sorry, again.” He turned to leave.

Sirius sighed. “Don’t,” he said. He didn’t want to have this conversation, but if none of his days had consequences...then it didn't matter if he messed up. Hale paused by the door. He glanced over his shoulder with a curious expression.

“Yeah?”

“I’m s -” Sirius cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m. Uh, I’m.” He winced. Merlin, he was out of practice. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever even _had_ practice at it. “What I mean to say is - ugh.”

“It’s fine, Sirius,” Hale said, smiling. He turned around proper and shrugged a shoulder, an understanding look on his face. Sirius hated that it made him feel a tiny bit better about his bungled apology. “I get the idea.”

“Okay,” Sirius said, regaining his composure. “Well. Good, then.”

Hale tilted his head, blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Did Mateo set you up to this?”

Sirius blinked. “Who?”

“Mateo,” Hale clarified like that helped make things any clearer. “Mateo DiSalvori. He’s in Hufflepuff.”

Oh, right.

Him.

“What? No?” Sirius scowled. “No, this is me trying to - trying to be nice! Or something like that. Look, are we done, or what? Do I need to beg?”

Hale wrinkled his nose. “Uh, no, this is alright. I forgive you.” There was a short, uncomfortable silence that seemed to go on for an eternity. “Was there...anything else...or…?”

“No,” Sirius said. He turned, walked into a bathroom stall and locked it. “No, go away.”

“Alright,” Hale said. “Bye, Sirius.”

Sirius heard his footsteps approach the door and then the swoosh and thud of the other boy leaving. “Muggleborns,” he muttered. They were a strange sort, that was for sure.

 

* * *

 

 

He arrived at Transfigurations with seven seconds to spare. Sirius knew there was that long because everyone counted down from ten to when the lesson began. This was awaiting the student who would be a few moments too late and end up in detention. Always, without fail, someone was late.

“SIX!” The room chorused as he opened the door and slipped inside. James shot him a relieved thumbs-up. “FIVE!”

Sirius dropped into his seat, letting his satchel thump down at his feet as he sprawled across his desk. From behind him, Remus let out an annoyed sigh. For a Marauder, he was awfully stringent about being on time.

“Where were you?” Peter whispered. “James thought you’d gone back to bed.”

“FOUR!”

He shrugged. Wormtail asked far too many questions. Especially since it was clear Sirius was not in the mood to explain himself or his actions. Time loops were so intense. Why couldn’t he have been stuck in a day during the summer holidays? He’d have been fine repeating one of his stints in the cellar at home. At least then he wouldn’t’ve even noticed the difference; it’s not like one could tell what day it was in the pitch black.

“THREE!”

“None of your business, Wormy,” said Sirius. He pulled his parchment, quill and inkwell from his back, organising them on his desk. Tapping her foot, Professor McGonagall looked at him with a suspicious frown. He could tell she expected him to burst out with a witty comment or brilliant prank.

 _Not today,_ Sirius thought. _Not this today, at least._

“TWO!”

James kicked the back of his chair. Sirius ignored him.

 **_Thursday, 15th January 1976_ ** he wrote at the top of the page, getting the ink on the side of his hand as he did so. It took a second to realise why his sentence smudged, and also why the writing itself seemed so sloppy. He was writing with his left hand. Growing up, Sirius had been the odd one out amongst his family in that his dominant hand was actually his left one. His mother saw it as strange and unnatural and because of this had trained to use his right instead.

For him to switch without realising it...he was more freaked out than he’d thought.

“ONE! ZERO! Time’s up!”

Sirius stared at the smudges on his hand. Caught in the groove between the knuckle on his pinky was a damp splotch of black ink. His gaze drifted down to the drops plopping onto his already ruined parchment.

“Sirius?” Peter whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Moving transfigured objects,” Professor McGonagall started. She made quick notes on the chalkboard with a dynamic swish of her wand. “Now, last lesson we discussed the difference between _mobiliarbus_ and _mobilicorpus._ Can anybody recall the answer?”

“Sirius?”

“Miss Evans?”

Evans cleared her throat and then recited from the board: “Mobiliarbus moves objects. Mobilicorpus moves bodies. Mobiliarbus will increase a living thing's body mass and makes it very heavy. Mobilicorpus animates objects for a short period of time, generally with unfavourable results.”

 _“Padfoot?”_ Peter hissed. “Your quill!”

“Yes, indeed, using mobilicorpus on non-living entities will create quite a disaster. They’ll come to life with quite a vengeance towards the caster, so care is key. The reason for this...aggressive reaction is unknown. Wizards of the past suspected the phenomenon known as the Creator's Curse to be at work. Please turn to page 1192 of your textbooks for further information to note down.”

Peter was purple as he nudged the other boy with his elbow and close-to-shouted his name. _“SIRIUS!"_

 **One**.

“Mister Pettigrew!” Professor McGonagall snapped at the Gryffindor’s loud outburst. “What is the meaning of - Mister Black? Is something the matter?”

“Paddy?” James called.

 **Two**.

Sirius realised that he was standing up. He realised that his quill had snapped and that ink had stained his hands, shirt sleeves, and front of his jumper. He realised that he was trembling. He realised that something was wrong.

“Can I take him to Madame Pomfrey, Professor?” Remus asked, always the practical thinker.

 **Three**.

“No, I’m alright,” Sirius said. The words sounded funny. He was slurring. “I’m...I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding!” Evans cried, pointing at his face.

Professor McGonagall appeared in front of him. “Mister Black.”

“Padfoot,” James grabbed his shoulder as he listed to one side. “Paddy, your nose is bloody.”

“Sirius Orion Black!” A voice bellowed in his ear. “You better be out of bed by the time I count to five!”

“Mister Black.”

“Sirius.”

 **Four**.

“Sirius.”

“Sirius!”

_“Mister Black!"_

His head cracked against the corner of Evans’ desk with an unceremonious ‘thunk’. Someone, James, yelled his name.

 

* * *

 

 

“- Sirius! Get up you lazy sod!”

Keeping his eyes shut, Sirius rolled out of bed. He landed on the hard, unforgiving floorboards. His blanket was still wrapped around his legs. Although the ground was cold, it was a better alternative to thinking about _time loops._ And the fact that he was stuck _forever_ in the worst day _ever_ and, and -

“Uhh,” James said, frowning. A foot nudged Sirius’ prone form. “Paddy...Are you. Are you...okay?”

He groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Leave me _alone,_ James.”

“No nickname,” said Remus. “You better run, Prongs. What’s wrong, Siri? Wormtail said you had a nightmare last night.”

 _“Peter_ is correct,” Sirius said, voice stern. Unyielding. “So kindly _bugger off.”_

James grumbled, his footsteps retreating across the room. The floorboards creaked under his bare feet. “Yeesh. C’mon, lads, leave the dog to his moping.”

There were some agreeable mumbles from Remus and Peter and they filed out of the room.

“Feel better, Padfoot,” Peter whispered as he closed the door. Sirius waited until he heard them go them the stairs and then scrambled to his feet, blanket slipping off.

He grabbed his wand; dragon heartstring, cypress, 10 ¼ inches, unyielding flexibility. With a wave, his dark leather trunk flew open, the silver buckles shining in the light. Out flew his Muggle clothes; a black t-shirt, black boots and - you guessed it - black jeans.

Sirius dressed, and then hesitated in front of James’ beaten up red leather trunk. He had covered it with Gryffindor stickers and fluttering snitches. It opened for Sirius, as the privacy wards saw his magical signature as trustworthy. He felt bad, but not enough to stop what he was doing.

Fingers searching out the familiar silk, Sirius latched onto the Invisibility Cloak. He drew James’ prized possession out of his trunk and draped it over his arm. From under Remus’ pillow, he retrieved the Marauders’ Map and then he risked a glance in the mirror.

His long hair was messy, unbrushed and hanging around his face in loose curls. He usually spelled those into submission. There were faint bags underneath his eyes. He looked exhausted. But what caught his attention was the gash at his left temple, surrounded by a livid purple bruise. Good job the lads hadn’t seen _that._. But why had an injury he received in the previous ‘loop’ affected him in the consecutive one? Was something unstable within the magic? That meant he might be able to escape it soon.

“Don’t think so much, Black,” he told himself. _“Do.”_

Sirius left the dormitory, drew the cloak up and around his body, and disappeared. If anyone had been looking up the stairs at that moment they would have seen a pair of boots run down. Gryffindors had gathered around the Common Room, preparing to head down to breakfast. Sirius thanked Merlin for his short stature when he saw his lower half was still visible. It was the only time it came in handy. Though getting to be at the front of school photos and piggyback rides were also nice. He repositioned the cloak around his body.

James and Remus were waiting by the portrait, each of them staring as Peter fumbled with his tie.

“C’mon, Wormy,” James sighed. “You’ve been doing this for, what, six years? And you still don’t know how to do up your tie?”

Sirius scoffed, then slapped a hand over his mouth. Remus, his senses heightened the days before and after the Full Moon, spun to look in his direction. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring as he scented the air.

Trying to keep his breathing stifled, Sirius walked backwards. He almost bumped into a group of First Years chatting about their upcoming lessons that day. Sirius watched Remus, James and Peter disappear from view and let out an audible sigh of relief. Part I of Plan A? Success. Part II? Uncertain.

Sirius was light on his feet, wincing every time he breathed and his shoes scraped the floor. He ducked into the sloped passageway hidden behind a tapestry of two sirens on harps. They winked at him as he pushed the cloth aside. Some paintings were able to see through the Invisibility Cloak. None of the Marauders had ever been able to tell which portraits could, though.

He walked for several minutes in the darkness. The only sound was his quick breathing and the beating of his heart, loud in the deathly silence. He was starting to question his plan(?) when loud voices burst into life, too close for comfort.

Close to leaping out of his skin, Sirius swung around. He could see there was a crack in the stone, now that he was looking for it. A light was spilling through. Sirius set his eye against the opening, straining to see who was out there.

“- Evans,” a very _familiar,_  very _unwanted_ voice said, accent posh and haughty.

Sirius gritted his teeth

_Lucius._

“Don’t start, Malfoy,” another, more dislikable voice said, nasal. “I’m in no mood to discuss this with you.”

“Oh, come on, Snape,” Lucius goaded, finally visible through the crack. He crossed his arms, tossing his long pale hair over one shoulder. “We all want to hear about your adventures with the Mudblood, don’t we, lads?”

There were several murmurs of agreement.

“What’s this, cousin?” Bellatrix giggled. She came into view, leaning against the wall beside Lucius, her lips painted blood-red. “Have you got a craving for dirty blood now?”

“Ah, leave ‘im alone, Bella,” Emma Vanity, a Fifth Year Slytherin with a silly Irish accent said. She was Pureblood, though; no surprises there. Her Father was the Northern Ireland Representative at the Ministry of Magic. Which was important enough that the other Slytherins ignored her accent. “Poor Reg’s lookin’ a little green around the gills at all this talk about mudbloods.”

Sirius mentally groaned. Regulus was there, too? Was there a Slytherin _not_ gossiping in the corridor at that very moment?

“I’m fine, Emma,” his brother said, appearing in view of the crack. “Only hungry.” He looked taller, though that could’ve been Sirius’ biased opinion. He figured that if he wasn’t going to hit that fabled growth spurt, then at least Regulus could. At 6’1, his brother was all legs. His limbs were still gangly, lacking the sleek grace distinctive of the Black family.

Their family had always praised Sirius for his grace and elegance. His aristocratic features, too, though often his father had labelled him too feminine. Not to mention the aptitude for the dark arts. The latter was something Sirius himself couldn’t find anything to be glad about.

“Well, let’s get to the Great Hall,” Another, more feminine voice said. Narcissa. He could picture her marble-pale face as he announced that her fiancé had fucked her sister. “And gather our fill of breakfast before Evan does.”

 _‘Evan',_ Sirius thought. _Don’t you mean_ **_Rosier_** _,_ _dear cousin?_

“After our little errand, sister,” Bellatrix reminded. “We can’t keep everyone waiting, now can we?”

He walked parallel to them inside the passageway. Twisting his fingers in the silky fabric of James' cloak, Sirius tried to keep his plan at the front of his mind. But that was hard when he could hear his brother and his friends talking on the other side of the thick stone wall.

Stupid Regulus. Stupid Lucius. Stupid Bellatrix, stupid Snape, stupid Narcissa, stupid Vanity and stupid, _stupid_ Sirius! How was he meant to keep himself sane living the same day over and over?

What had Other-Sirius said, again? ‘There’s always time’? He could definitely see the irony in that cryptic statement now.

Before he had long to ponder the topic of Other-Sirius, he reached the end of the secret passage. He wasn’t exactly sure how it could come out by the Trophy Room. The entrance was on the seventh floor, but the exit was on the sixth, but he put it down to magic.

Sirius hesitated in front of the narrow opening that leads out into the hallway, pulling off the Cloak. Tucking it into his satchel alongside the Map, he then slunk through the gap. He stood up in time to -

“Oh,” Regulus said.

“Sirius,” added Lucius, his tone flat. In their younger years, they’d been rather close friends. Well, up until the older boy left for Hogwarts. Until he'd gotten sorted into Slytherin and Sirius realised how much he hated him and his pratty face. Their relationship wasn’t so great after that little eye opener. His gaze dragged up and down Sirius’ body. Taking in his Muggle clothes, messy hair and complete lack of Pureblood decorum. “It’s...You look rather terrible.”

Sirius frowned. “Thanks,” he said. “You look like shit, too, Luci.”

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, brother,” Regulus said.

“Six ‘gainst one?” Vanity giggled. “It hardly seems fair.”

A voice spoke up from behind him. Sirius looked over his shoulder. It was Milton Mulciber, a fellow Sixth Year, and Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix’s fiancé. Hanging back behind them was Lestrange’s brother, Rabastan, who was only in his Third Year. “Can we even the odds, hm? Nine against one any better?”

“I hardly think little Rabastan counts, Mulciber,” Sirius rolled his eyes. He wasn't worried. Slytherins were cunning, after all. Definitely not inclined to attack him in school. At home was another matter altogether, but he wouldn’t have to deal with that if the time loop held up. “I doubt he has the capacity to cast anything more difficult than ‘Expelliarmus’ yet.”

Rabastan, still too timid to say anything outright, glared daggers at him. Rodolphus looked insulted on behalf of his younger brother. “Oh, like you can talk, Canicula?”

Merlin, Sirius had _not_ missed that nickname, which translated to ‘little dog’ in Latin. It had been the slightly mocking name his father had used and to hear someone else call him that stung.

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t -”

_“What happened to your face?"_

Sirius blinked at his brother, surprised to find him so close. Regulus reached for him and he instinctively stepped backwards. He tucked his hair behind his ear, bearing the scabbing wound and bruise for them all to see. “Jealous, Reggie?”

“No,” Regulus blinked, before getting his thoughts back on track. “Did you get in a fight?”

“That’s not surprising,” Snape muttered.

“Ickle Sirius has a boo boo?” Bellatrix cooed, her eyes like big, shimmering pools of ink. It made him feel sick if he stared into them for too long. “Did you fall over those hideous _Mudblood_ shoes, perchance?”

“It’s nothing,” Sirius said, ignoring his cousin’s typical mocking. He slapped his brother’s questioning hand away. “Ah, ah, ah! No touching. I don’t want your slimy snake hands anywhere near me.”

Sirius found himself shoved against the stone wall beside the statue of the centaur. It stared at them with disapproval. Mulciber, as he was the one who’d done said shoving, sneered in Sirius’ face. “You think you’re so special, eh, Black? Seems like we’ll have to teach you a lesson about talking out of turn.”

Sirius, who had no reason to care about consequences if he would loop back to the beginning of the day, chuckled. If that was good for one thing it would have to be the fact that he could do whatever he wanted. With no repercussions.

In fact...

“Was that a note of jealousy I detect in your tone, _Mil~ton?"_? He singsonged, channelling both his mother in his creepy tone and father in his wicked grin. “Aw, don’t worry; I’m sure one day Mommy and Daddy will tell you you’re special as well.”

“He’s goading you,” Snape said as Mulciber went purple with rage. “He wants you to attack so you’ll get detention and lose house points.”

“It’s _working,"_  Mulciber gritted out. He leant closer, breath puffing on Sirius’ cheek as he craned his neck down. Using both arms, he caged Sirius against the wall. “Watch your tongue, Gryffindor.”

Sirius licked his lips, took a deep breath and smirked. “Watch _yourself,_ _Slytherin._ ”

 _Locomotor Mortis!_ He thought.

Mulciber gasped as his legs snapped together, toppling his body to the ground. He twisted, trying to unstick his lower limbs from each other.

Sirius drew his wand at the same time as everyone else, pulling it out of his sleeve. “Now you’ve done it, you blood traitor!” Lestrade the younger was the first to speak, his voice still rather shaky with fear. _“Confundus!"_

Huh. Pretty impressive attempt from a Third Year. No match for Sirius, though.

 _“Pelle Aculeatum!"_  He flicked his wand and Rabastan flew backwards, clutching at his face and crying out. His features were already swelling between his fingers as the stinging curse did its job.

“You cursed my brother!” Rodolphus growled, readying himself. “You’ll pay for that! _Expulso!_ _Furnunculus!_ ”

He ducked in time for the first flash of light to hit the wall where he’d been leaning. Large chunks of stone rubble to explode out across the corridor. A piece hit Regulus in the head, knocking him unconscious almost immediately. The second, a curse, bounced off the shield charm Sirius had conjured.

“Enough!” Lucius yelled, stepping forward with his hands raised. “Lestrange, stop!”

Rodolphus hesitated enough for Sirius to bring out his final surprise. _“Confringo!"_  The Slytherin, wand slipping from his hand in surprise, burst into flames. Vanity, Pureblood though she was, screamed. Sirius let half a second past before he cast another spell, this one less...’evil’. _“Aguamenti!"_

The water immediately put out the fire curse. This left a stunned, rather scorched Lestrange to gape at him for a second. Then he keeled over backwards to lay limp on the floor.

A few seconds past. Mulciber, who had given up on trying to escape the leg binding, grunted as he writhed on the ground.

Bellatrix started clapping. “Bravo!” She cried. “Very impressive!”

Vanity, annoyed about her own loud outburst of fear, planted her hands on her hips. “Not your smartest move, Black. Headmaster Dumbledore won't like you settin’ your classmate on fire. And injurin’ an innocent little Third Year!”

Sirius shrugged. He stepped over his brother’s unconscious form with a sly little grin. “Well, if I’m already going to be in trouble…” He rested his wand between her eyes. A swirl of magic appeared at the tip as he pressed it against her skin. “Then it won’t matter if I add you to the list, will it?”

“What’s gotten into you, Black?” Snape asked, curious. He began to help Regulus, who was regaining consciousness, onto his feet. “You’re not this...calculated most of the time.”

“He takes after his mother,” Bellatrix said, an air of sympathy about her. “Mad, that is.”

“Leave him, Bella,” Lucius commanded. He was leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, nonchalant. It was a complete farce, of course, given his panicked orders earlier. Sirius appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. “Little Siri is working through some things.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Sirius. His wand dipped as he turned to look at Lucius. He eyed the way Snape checked his brother’s scalp for serious injuries. “Are you trying to start something, Lucius?”

“Me?” Lucius smirked. “Not at all. Bellatrix, on the other hand...”

Sirius’ head swung around, but it was too late; Bellatrix already had her wand pointed at him. _“Diffindo Corium!"_

Vanity screamed again as the bolt of red light missed her face. It scorched along Sirius’ forearm with a faint whistling noise and faded into nothing a few feet away. He blinked.

“Merlin,” Reg said. His face was a chalky white.

Entranced, Sirius stared at the gash along his right arm. It went from his wrist to halfway up his forearm, curving to the right a bit from where he’d attempted to flinch away. The wound gaped open, displaying the pink tissue and a flash of bone within. It took several seconds for the blood to bubble up, but when it did the hot liquid squirted out like a geyser.

“Fuck!” Lucius cried, vulgar for once. Sirius clamped a hand over his arm, but blood still spurted between his fingers. “Bella, what did you _do?!_ ” He appeared at Sirius’ side, hands waving in the air as he tried to decide how to help. “Regulus!”

Reg, close to hyperventilating, stumbled backwards. “I’ll get the nurse!” He took off, shoes slapping hard on the stone floor. Sirius had never seen his brother move so fast. Not even when they were kids running from their mean older cousins.

“Come on, Mulciber!” Bellatrix spat. She looked both angry and flustered. “Let’s get out of here. _Finite!"_  Mulciber, freed from the jinx, scrambled to his feet and ran off with Bellatrix and Vanity.

Sirius realised he was going into shock.

He couldn’t focus on the pressure Lucius was exerting on his arm, nor the fact that they were now on the ground. The Slytherin had blood staining his perfectly-manicured hands.

Snape, who had been silent up until that point, loomed over him. His wand was out. “Move your hands, Malfoy,” he snapped. “I don’t want you getting in the way.”

Lucius drew his arms away and immediately the blood began to flow anew.

 _"Periculosi Vulnerasana,”_ Snape intoned, waving his wand in small circles over Sirius’ arm. _“Tardus Sanguinem. Periculosi Vulnerasana...Tardus Sanguinem..._ ” He continued, his voice steady and unyielding.

Sirius watched, stunned, as the blood slowed to a trickle before his very eyes at the hands of _Snape._  It was...well, it was one of the weirdest things he’d seen, that was for sure.

His skin, now free of blood, began to knit itself back together and within a minute all that was there was a long thin scar. It was pinkish in colour, trailing along his wrist and up around his forearm. Snape stopped his chanting and slid his wand back into his robes. He stood up, dusted himself off, then sneered.

“Are we done, Black?”

Lucius, who still looked rather stunned, also rose to his feet. Both of them had blood drying on their hands. But Lucius was unfortunate enough to also have it spotted along his robe and shirt sleeves, too.

Sirius blinked. “Uh…” He shook his head, regaining his composure. “Yeah.”

A few moments passed before he realised that it wouldn’t make any difference tomorrow.

He was free to do whatever he wanted. _Without consequences._

“I mean, yes,” Sirius continued with more enthusiasm. He leant on the wall and his levered himself upright, making sure not to show how unsteady he felt. “Thanks, Snape.”

Snape, shock peeking through his sneering mask for a beat, dipped his chin. “This never happened.”

 _That’s truer than you think, Snivellus,_ he thought, amused. “What about my brother?” said Sirius. “I doubt Madame Pomfrey will be happy to come all the way here for nothing.”

The two Slytherins traded a glance. They hadn’t thought about that.

“Hm,” Lucius said. He glanced over at the still unconscious forms of the Lestrange brothers. "We could..."

“I’ll figure something out,” Sirius said, surprising even himself. “Get out of here.”

“What are you planning, cousin?”

“Y’know, we’re not actually related like that, Lucius,” said Sirius. “Bella, Cissy and Meda are my only cousins. You and I are...fourth cousins removed? Something like that.”

“Indeed, but that would be a mouthful don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Sirius said. “Not like we actually talk much, though. Seeing as I’m a blood traitor and all.”

“Of course you are,” Lucius said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be cordial, does it? So long as we leave each other well enough alone for the most part.”

 _“I_ won’t be cordial,” Snape growled. “Not with _him."_

“Now, now, Severus,” Sirius purred, smirking like the crup that got the owl. “There’s no need to be so foul-tempered; not when I’m offering to help you out, at least.” He heard faint footsteps soon approaching. “Speaking of help, it looks like my brother is faster than I thought.”

“Damn,” Lucius said. He glanced over his shoulder, down the long hallway. Sirius thought he could recognise James’ steps from the way they his long stag-legs spaced out. “I’ll -”

“Save it, Malfoy,” Sirius shrugged, wiggling his hands into his pockets. “Spell the blood away and pull those two idiots into the secret passageway before I change my mind.”

Lucius blinked at him, then nodded and dragged Rabastan over to the passage.

Snape pulled out his wand. _“Tergeo,"_  he said and the blood on their clothes and the floor began to fade away. “Don’t think this makes us even, Black.”

Tilting his head, Sirius smirked. “Even for what, Snivellus?”

Snape, given no chance to counter with his own insult, followed Lucius in the nick of time. Madame Pomfrey slowed from her brisk walk at the sight of Sirius standing in the middle of an empty hall. Behind her was Regulus, Remus, James and...uh-oh. Professor McGonagall.

“Mister Black?” Madame Pomfrey, though it wasn’t clear whether she was addressing Sirius or his brother. “What is the meaning of this?”

“What’s the meaning of what, Poppy?” Sirius said. “Is something going on?”

“Please explain yourself, Mister Black!” Professor McGonagall cried, turning on poor Reg, who looked rather lost and confused. “Or I will dock fifty points from Slytherin for lying about such a serious situation!”

“I -” Regulus said, cheeks darkening. His mouth opened and closed like a guppy. “I. Um.”

“It’s clear what’s going on here,” James said, fixing his hands on his hips. “The Slytherins are trying to get back at us for winning the House Cup last year.”

Regulus spluttered. “W-What? No!”

“C’mon, Prongs,” Remus sighed, shooting Sirius a rather suspicious glance. “Stop pulling the Professor’s leg and let Sirius talk.” They all turned to look at him.

“Well, will the _other_ Mister Black please explain himself! Before I resort to assigning detentions for wasting Madame Pomfrey’s time?” Professor McGonagall said.

“And on that note, since there are no serious life-threatening injuries, I'll take my leave!”

“Of course, Poppy,” Professor McGonagall said. The matron disappeared around the corner, grumbling to herself about time-wasting 'brats'. “Now. Please explain.”

Sirius grinned, pulling out all the stops. “There’s not much to talk about, Minnie,” he said. “Reg, his Slytherin buddies and I got into a little disagreement, that’s all. As you can see,” he pushed his hair behind his ear, revealing the rather gruesome cut and bruise on his head. “I did get a little cut up, but nothing to fret over. My brother was so concerned for me, that’s all.”

“Indeed,” said Professor McGonagall. Though she did look less angry and her gaze was now captured by the wound on his head. “Would you like me to call Madame Pomfrey back?”

“No, no,” Sirius insisted. “There’s no need. I’ve had worse.” _From my mum on a Tuesday morning before breakfast, even._

That didn’t seem to make Professor McGonagall feel any better. But Remus cut in before she could begin to question him further. “I’ll deal with it, Professor,” he said.

 _Sneaky Moony,_  Sirius thought. All the Professors knew that Remus got quite hurt during the Full. They would trust him to deal with any minor injuries on his own.

“We’re sorry for the trouble,” James pleaded. “We’ll make it up to you! Won’t we, Reg?” He and Regulus had spoken three words to each other before, none of them in any way positive.

“Uh,” Regulus said, before nodding. “Yes, of course. My apologies, Professor. Have a lovely morning.”

She nodded. “See that it doesn’t happen again or I'll have to dock points from my own house. Oh, and Mister Black?”

“Yes, Professor?” Regulus said.

“Yes, Minnie?” Sirius said.

Professor McGonagall addressed him this time. “See to it that you change into your uniform before classes start.” It sounded scolding, but the slight smile gave her away. “Or I will assign you detention!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sirius offered a jaunty saluted and the four boys watched her leave. “Thanks, lads,” he continued as soon as she was out of earshot. “That could’ve gotten downhill if you hadn’t been here. I wasn’t looking forward to a month’s worth of detentions.”

“What the hell was that!?” Regulus spat, stalking over to shove him roughly against the wall. Remus stepped forward, looking like he was going to intervene. “I _saw_ you bleeding!”

“Oh, you did,” Sirius assured him. Godric knew they were both aware that their chances of ending up crazy were much higher than most people’s. “I’m alright now, though.” He held his newly-healed arm out. Regulus stepped over to examine it further, so Sirius stayed leaning against the wall.

“Woah. That looks pretty serious, Padfoot.”

“Don’t,” Remus warned.

“Well, Prongs,” Sirius grinned. “I am pretty _se~rious,_ so thanks.”

“Ugh,” said Regulus. “I hate those jokes.”

“You love them,” Sirius said. He dropped his arm, straightened up and hiked his satchel higher up over his shoulder. “Now, if you don’t mind, I actually have somewhere to be.”

“Somewhere to be?” James echoed. “I thought you were staying in bed today. Not…” He gestured in Sirius’ general direction. “Whatever this is. You said you had a _nightmare."_

“I did,” Sirius shrugged. “But there’s this thing, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it, but it’s called _lying,_  James. I lied to you. That’s something I sometimes do.”

“You -” James spluttered. “You _lied?_  To _me?_ Your best friend?”

Remus bristled. “Hey!”

“No offence, Moony,” James said. “But I’m still trying to get over the fact that Padfoot here goes on little adventures whilst we’re in class! Whilst I spend all day worrying that he's sick!”

“Aw, Jamie, you _do_ care. And stop freaking out! You don’t need to make such a big deal about it. You and Peter sneak off all the time in the middle of the night to go to the kitchens.” James opened his mouth. “Don’t even try and deny it! I’ve _seen_ you.” James closed his mouth.

“Enough!” Regulus burst in. “This is ridiculous. Potter!” He rounded on James, who stepped backwards, raising his hands in surrender. “Are you mad at my brother for skipping without you? You’re acting like a jealous lover! And you!” He swung to face Sirius, who was much more familiar with his fiery temper and only raised an eyebrow. “Stop not going to your lessons! Don’t you want to get good marks on the NEWTs?”

Sirius laughed, though louder than he should’ve, given the looks they were giving him. “Oh, Reg!” he said. “Poor, sweet, Reg. You have a lot to learn, brother. The thing is; I’m going to do exemplary on my exams. In fact, the only one who’ll beat me is Evans. If she's lucky. And James here in Transfigurations and Care of Magical Creatures. Animals aren’t a big fan of me.” He realised he was getting off topic. “Anyway! The lesson is that some things are more important than an education.”

“Not a very good lesson,” Remus remarked. “Sounded a lot like you bragging about how smart you are.”

Sirius stuck his tongue out, then shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “But does that make what I said any less true? No. No, it doesn’t. Look, I’m smart _and_ good at giving advice.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Regulus said and Sirius could tell their brief time of camaraderie had come to an end. “But I can make my own decisions.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, voice tinged with sadness. “Yeah, I suppose you can. See you around, Reg.”

“If you say so, brother,” said Regulus. He turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor, leaving Sirius staring after him. Left in the dust like always.

James patted his shoulder. “Sorry, Pads.”

Sirius forced a grin onto his face, though it fitted wrong “Don’t be. I’m used to it now,” he checked his imaginary watch. “Hm; quarter-to-nine. Looks like I’m off schedule by a fair bit. Meet you guys at lunch?”

“What?” James said. “No way! We’re coming with you!”

“Afraid not, Jamie,” Sirius said because he knew how much James hated that nickname. “This is solo-Sirius day. Me in the company of myself and I.”

“We’re your friends!” James continued to protest

“Lay off him, Prongs,” Moony scolded. “If Sirius wants to get himself into trouble, then let him. I’m sure he’ll tell us all about it later.”

James was still indecisive, so Sirius took the decision out of his hands by pulling the Cloak from his bag. He swept it up and over himself.

“Did you go into my _trunk?!"_

“Yep,” Sirius said. He headed off down the corridor. “See you later!”

He heard James let out an angry bellow. The other boy chased after him, completely bypassing where Sirius was standing. Remus let out a derisive snort.

“Don’t get yourself killed, Padfoot,” he called. _Damn that superior werewolf nose._ “And don’t make me dock you house points. I will, you know. I’m a prefect.”

“Sure, Moony. Whatever you say.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more astute of you may notice the inclusion of four spells not mentioned by JK. Rowling. These are my own creations.
> 
> For anyone interested:
> 
> Diffindo Corium - Curse - “diffindo” split “corium” skin - does as implies; splits the skin of the victim
> 
> Periculosi Vulnerasana - Spell - “periculosi” dangerous “vulnera” wounds “sana” heal - heals grevious wounds, hard spell to cast as it is very taxing on one's magic
> 
> P.S. Sirius explained this chapter title for me! So helpful.
> 
> Pelle Aculeatum - Hex - “pelle” skin “aculeatum” stinging - the sort of spell you learn as the kids of Death Eaters when you're eight, but most Light families consider 'verging on Dark'
> 
> Tardus Sanguinem - Spell - “tardus” slow “sanguinem” blood - slows down heavy bleeding


	5. extimesco

Sirius took off James’ cloak when he reached Headmaster Dumbledore’s office. He had to be careful, though, since there were classrooms surrounding him. It wouldn’t do to get caught so close to his goal.

He faced the golden griffin standing guard in front of the staircase, stifling a nervous gulp. He was a lion, damn it! There was no room for nerves!

“Smarties,” he said, remembering the password from the loops when he’d gone to the Headmaster's office. The griffin seemed to be judging him as it spun away to reveal the stairs.

Sirius climbed them and reached the door as it swung open.

Headmaster Dumbledore, fingers steepled in front of his face and eyes glittering in the light, smiled at him. “Come in, dear boy.”

“Hello, Headmaster,” Sirius said. His gaze darted to the little box that held the timeturner that had gotten him in the situation in the first place. Headmaster Dumbledore didn’t follow his eye, still staring at Sirius’ face. “You knew I was coming?”

“We have much to discuss, Sirius, and I believe there are things you might need to tell me...”

 

* * *

 

 

Headmaster Dumbledore, now reclined back in his tall elegantly-carved chair, sighed. “Well,” he said. “It seems you have gotten yourself into quite the conundrum, Mister Black.”

“You don’t need to tell me, sir,” Sirius said. “This is only the fifth go of it and I’ve already died once! I've fallen unconscious twice, close to bled to death under an hour ago _and_ killed a fellow student on my first loop. I can’t see what much else _could_ go wrong.”

“Hm,” Headmaster Dumbledore said. He rubbed his chin, or, at least, Sirius thought he did. It was hard to tell under all that... _beard._  “I can see why you came to me, Sirius. This is a very serious situation indeed.” His eyes twinkled. “But…”

There was an awkward pause where Sirius stared at the old wizard, blinking. “Yes?”

“This could be is a gift.”

“A gift,” Sirius said. “Headmaster -”

Headmaster Dumbledore interrupted. “From what you’ve told me, Sirius; things have been a little stressful between you and your friends?”

“Yes, sir,” Sirius, dreading where this was going.

“Then isn't this is an opportunity to make amends? With them and members of Hogwarts who aren’t in Gryffindor.”

“You means DiSalvori and Hale.”

“Mateo and Michael are your classmates, Sirius,” Headmaster Dumbledore said. Disappointment edged his tone. “An attempt to get along would not go amiss.”

Sirius looked at his hands clenched in his lap, shame curling in his stomach. He _hated_ it when adults scolded him. “Yes, Headmaster.”

“Good,” Headmaster Dumbledore said, nodding. He straightened up. “Now, off to class with you.”

His head shot up. “What?! But why -”

“You’re a smart young man, Mister Black,” Headmaster Dumbledore said. “But I suspect you have not been doing as well in your lessons as you could have. This will give you the chance to...fulfil your potential.”

 _No way,_  Sirius thought. _Is he...is this him giving me permission to...mess around?_

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Am I allowed to go now?”

Headmaster Dumbledore blinked at him, then an amused smile overtook his face. “Of course, of course. Your History of Magic class with Professor Binns is about to start, yes? You best hurry along unless you want to be late.”

 _Late for my mid-morning nap,_  Sirius thought. Because Cuthbert Binns wasn’t exactly known for his entertaining lesson plans. Then it was lunch and off to double DAtDA with the new, and soon-to-be short-lived, Professor Puckle. That was a lesson Sirius was looking forward to, though. For a temporary placement, Puckle was good at his job.

“Yes, sir,” he said again, standing up. “Thank you again, Headmaster.”

“Please don’t thank me, Sirius,” Headmaster Dumbledore said. “After all, I haven’t been much help, have I?”

 _No,_ Sirius thought. _No, sir, you’ve been a rather_ ** _big_** _help._

“I’ll come speak with you if I find out anything more, sir,” he said instead of answering. “Not that you’ll know.”

“Hm,” Headmaster Dumbledore said. He stroked his long bushy beard. "Tell me ‘Aberforth’. That should do it.”

“Aberforth?”

Headmaster Dumbledore winked at him. “My younger brother, though I’m afraid we don’t speak to one another as much as I’d like. I suppose you would know all about that, though, wouldn’t you?”

Sirius remembered Regulus’ white face when blood spurted from his arm. His steely, ice-cold determination after the Hat sorted him into Slytherin.

“Oh yes, sir,” he said. “I definitely do.”

 

* * *

 

 

Binns droned on about the 1400's Great Fire of Gringotts for close to two hours. Yet somehow Sirius felt rather more chipper about his situation afterwards. James, catching up with him in the hallway, found his cheer to be quite disconcerting.

“Hey, you,” he said. “What happened to your arm? And where did you go afterwards?”

“To see Headmaster Dumbledore,” Sirius said, sotto voce. It wouldn’t do to be overheard by any of the passing students. Gryffindors, Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws alike. “I’ll tell you about it in a bit, okay? Not whilst there are spies on every corner.”

James ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the sooty bird's nest into an even worse state. “Okay, Siri. If I can trust you with my cloak, then I can trust you to tell me your big secretive secret later. In fact, speaking of my cloak…”

“Oh,” Sirius said. He grabbed it from his bag and watched James stuff it into his own before anyone noticed. “There ya go. Happy now?”

“Tickled pink.”

 

* * *

 

 

Remus was with Peter in the Great Hall, helping the rat Animagus work on his Care of Magical Creatures essay. James joined them on the bench closest to the Slytherin table, and Sirius went to the Ravenclaw side. He sat down and grabbed himself a small helping of fruit salad and a half-full cup of pumpkin juice. It was getting quite boring having the same lunch every single day, after all.

“No, no,” Remus scolded, making a note in the margin of Peter’s notebook in red ink. He quill was old and the feather was breaking. Sirius made a note to buy him a new one they next time he went to Hogsmeade. If he ever managed to get there. “You’ve gotten Thestrals mixed up with Hippogriffs. They’re the ones with beaks. Thestrals are, uh, well….Sirius?”

Sirius took a sip of his drink. “Ugly buggers,” he said. “Leathery horses with dragon faces. Long whippy tails and big black wings with little pincers in the middle.”

James pulled a face, close to choking on his bacon sarnie. “Ugh, Padfoot. I’m _eating."_

“Sorry, James,” Remus said, not looking very sorry. “Peter has to hand this in this afternoon. He’s been putting it off since Kettleburn assigned the essay _last week.”_

“It’s hard,” Peter defended himself. “And Sirius never does his homework.”

“I’m special, Wormy,” Sirius said, rolling his head to one side. “Besides, I do _some_ of it.”

“Only for Ancient Runes and your other electives,” James said. “And that’s only because if you didn’t you’d have to join Wormy, or me in Divinations.”

“That too.”

“Speaking of homework,” Remus said. “Have you got... _the map?"_  He added in a hushed voice, eyes darting around to make sure they weren’t be overheard. “Professor McGonagall asked me to make a check of the Common Room before Defence, but I’d rather not walk all the way. Not if I don't have to.”

“Sure.”

Sirius pulled it from his bag and handed over the blank piece of parchment. Their Defence lesson was unusual in that all four houses in Sixth Year took it together. Their class sizes were generally smaller, too. In their year there were only seven Gryffindors (four boys, three girls). _Two_ Hufflepuffs. Eight Slytherins (three boys, four girls, and one student who was neither). And ten Ravenclaws (six boys and four girls). That meant he was stuck in a room with Evans, that DiSalvori prat, and _snakes_ , seeing as they’d all passed the OWLs with an E or O.

“Yoo-hoo~” James waved a hand in front of his face. “Paddy? You okay?”

“Uh,” Sirius jerked back. “Uh, yep. Sorry, Prongs.”

A throat cleared back them and Sirius, a dawning sense of realisation coming over him, turned his head.

"Evans!" James shouted. He jerked in place and avoided upending his pumpkin juice into _Remus’_ lap this time by a very narrow margin. "What are you doing here?! I mean - ...Ready to accept my offer of a date?" He beamed.

Lizzie giggled.

"Not on your life, Potter," Evans hissed, crossing her arms. "I'm actually here to talk to you, Black," She looked at Sirius, who stared back at her.

“If this is about Hale, then you can go away,” he said. “It’s none of your business.”

"You can drop this little facade, _Black,"_ Evans sneered his surname, nose in the air. “We all know you’re nothing but a _bully."_

“Uh, Evans,” James said with a frown. “Is this the time for an argument? I mean, the Professors are all watching us.”

Sirius glanced over and indeed they were, arguing about whether to intervene or not.Headmaster Dumbledore looked relaxed though, hands folded under his chin as he met Sirius’ gaze with a wink.

“They’re not doing anything, though,” Peter pointed out. He was still eating, stuffing his face with roast potatoes, though at a slower pace so he could speak. “ ‘sides staring.”

Something began to niggle at the back of his mind, an urgent thought that he couldn’t quite recall. Sirius frowned, climbing off the bench and turning to face Evans.

“Back off,” he snapped, exactly what he’d said when they’d had the argument before, and as predicted, Evans sneered at him.

_‘Don't tell me what to do!’ She would growl. Her face would go as red as a tomato._

“Not on your life, Black!” Evans spat. “You can’t wriggle your way out of this one!”

 _What,_  Sirius thought. That wasn’t right. If he was in a time loop, then people should say the exact same thing. Though it could vary depending on what he countered with, of course. But he’d said the line right! ‘Back off’! Why hadn’t Evans responded the way she should have?

“Uh,” Sirius said, faltering. “Aren’t you going to say I’m like my family? Something about a leopard?”

Evans blinked, shocked out of her anger. “What?”

“It’s Muggle saying, right?” He pressed. Were leopards mythical creatures in Muggle lore? That would explain why he had never heard of them. “Circe, Evans. Can’t you insult me and get it over with?”

“Leave it, Lily,” Lizzie said, glancing around. “Everyone’s watching.” That was a gross exaggeration since there were only a few heads turned in their direction. But Sirius didn’t care. If it got Evans to leave him alone, then fair play to the girl.

“We can finish this tête-à-tête later,” Sirius lied. He doubted if he’d even be around to have the conversation judging by how his previous time loops had gone.

“Fine,” Evans growled.

“Fine,” Sirius replied.

“Well...well, _fine!"_  Evans growled and then she turned and marched away, her red hair swishing as she walked. James was drooling, Remus was shaking his head and Peter had gone back to stuffing his face with food. Actually, none of that was in the least bit surprising.

“That was very mature of you, Sirius,” Remus said, looking impressed. “One point to Gryffindor.”

“Yeah,” James added, patting him on the back like a proud older brother. Except Sirius was older than him by three months. “Nice one, Pads. You’ve been knuckling down on that temper of yours lately.” Had he? Sirius didn’t think that was true, but he’d take the compliments where he could get them.

“Mmm fm,” said Peter.

“Thanks,” said Sirius.

But his mind was elsewhere. Or, rather, else _when._  Why had Evans gone off script? Had he somehow changed the way the situation should to pan out? He didn’t think that was the case, since the confrontation still went down in the first place. Did he need to run through a loop as exact as he could make it to the first one? That could give him the chance to keep an eye out for any major, or minor, discrepancies.

“What lesson have you got next?” Remus asked Peter. He made a small correction to the other boy’s homework with what they called his ‘Prefect Quill’. It was a gift from the old man when he received his badge in fifth year.

“Herbology,” Peter said, taking a hearty gulp of his pumpkin juice. “With Sprout.” Herbology was a compulsory class that required three hours a week until seventh year. Those who wished to take it for NEWTs would sign up for more lessons that counted as an extra curricular.

“We’ve got Defence,” James added. “I heard from Hortensia that we’re working on wandless magic today, so that should be right up your alley, Pads. Think a bit of showing off will help?”

“Help with what? My clear and rational thought process? Or the way I handled the situation with Little Miss Prefect?” Sirius said, though there was no bite to it.

“Don’t call her that,” James scowled, though he soon brightened back up again. “And I’m going to take your backtalk as a ‘yes’.”

He was bit excited, given how it would be the first loop he’d get to do the lesson in. Sirius couldn’t help but think it’d soon lose its novelty like everything else, though.

“Duh,” said Sirius, giving a real, actually genuine nod. “But you’re done after Defence, so I’m a little less excited than you.”

“You should’ve swapped Care of Magical Creatures for History of Magic like your mum and dad wanted you to, Prongs.” Remus shook his head. “It’s not a very well regarded class unless you’re looking to go into animal husbandry, which you’re not. The Aurors don’t care about ‘useless’ lessons. Latin is bad enough, it being a dead language and all.”

“Aemulor vos es nobis,” said James. _You’re jealous of us._ He shot a rakish grin at their resident werewolf.

Remus scowled, brown eyes rolling hard in annoyance. “Okay, okay, don’t fake fun of me when I don’t understand - oh, don’t pull that face, Prongs, I’m not an idiot. Even though you and Sirius are Latin-loving Purebloods, doesn’t mean -”

“Aw, come on, Moony,” Sirius interjected. “He’s only joking, the poor sod! Besides, Jamie’ll get into Auror work without a fuss, electives or no. He’s a _Potter."_ The Ministry would trip over themselves to have such a prominent heir working for them. Especially as an Auror, which was a department that had gotten itself a bad reputation. “It’s me you should worry about. What, you think I’m taking nine NEWTs for fun?”

Remus’ expression softened, his scowl melting away. “They’ll accept your application, Sirius. The fact that you’re a Black won’t mean anything. The entire wizarding world knows you don’t agree with their Dark magic principles. The fact that you got sorted into Gryffindor will only help your case.”

“And also, everyone knows how much your family hates you!” Peter added.

“Not helping, Wormy,” James said, frowning at their fellow Marauder. He turned big, brown eyes on the best-looking of their little quartet. “Don’t listen to him. They won’t care about who your family is, only your own merit, and nine NEWTs is nothing to scoff at. You’re a shoe-in.”

Sirius, ranked number one hottest Hogwarts boy for four years in a row, shrugged. “It’s okay,” he said, keeping an air of casualness in his tone. “If I don’t get in, I’ll do something else. Auror training is your dream, not mine. I have nothing better to do than keep your antlers in check, that's all.”

It actually was fine. Sure, being an Auror would be fun and a nice ol’ ‘FUCK YOU’ to his family, but he wasn’t desperate for it. Not like James. He’d said so to Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore at his career meeting. They had not been so impressed with his altruism and insisted he attempt to ‘branch out on his own’.

Which was easier said than done. He didn’t have any big dreams or future jobs or happy times, nor any real idea about what his life was panning out to be like. His time generally ran itself and Sirius generally took each day as it came. If he ended up being forever single and jobless or trailing after his friends until he got old and died... That sounded alright. He’d be the cool Uncle for all their little Marauderlets.

“Something will come up,” Remus said, reaching across the table to pat him on the head like he was in his Animagus form. It didn’t feel as condescending as it should have. “Who knows, you could become a Professor! It’s not exactly a secret that most of the staff have a soft spot for you.”

“Not most,” Sirius corrected with a toss of his head. _“All._  And who wouldn’t? I’m the biggest character that’s ever graced these fair halls.”

“Ha!” James chimed in. “More like the biggest _ego."_

Sirius stuck his tongue out, inspiring a round of laughter. It was the best loop he’d had yet. Even when considering what happened with the Slytherins and Headmaster Dumbledore.

 

* * *

 

 

Professor Puckle had been teaching since the last teacher left to work for the Ministry. He had been a stuffy wizard with little talent at any sort of spellwork that wasn’t remedial. He’d only been at Hogwarts since the previous September but was already a far better Professor. He'd even endeared himself to most, if not all the students (except for the elitist Purebloods, that was).

Sirius had looked him up in the registry archives during the Christmas holidays. He'd found that Puckle had attended school at the same time as his parents, though he was Muggleborn. So the chances of them ever having any sort of good interaction were slim to almost non-existent. They’d hated Muggles and anything to do with being one even all those years ago.

Peter left them outside the Great Hall and so the three other Marauders continued up to the third floor. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that they placed the Defence classroom by the Hospital Wing. Their walk was quiet, as they could see Evans walking up ahead with her sheep. Fellow Gryffindor Mary Macdonald and three Ravenclaws who shared their Defence class. Viola Ellis, Maeve Purcell and Artemis Flitwick. The latter was the nephew of their tiny Charms Professor.

For once, James didn’t call out to his long-time love and instead sent Sirius a look. As if to say:  _'don’t start anything, Padfoot'._

Sirius sent one back: _‘I won’t, Prongs! Calm down!’_

Professor Puckle was sat behind his desk in the class. He was scribbling away on a piece of parchment and muttering to himself. He had frizzy brown hair stuck up at odd angles, interlaced with streaks of grey and white. It was odd to think a man of only forty-six looked so old and weathered. Especially seeing as Sirius’ own mother and father were in their forties, too, with only a few wrinkles.

Evans was sitting down in the front row, organising her parchment, ink, quills and books. Her minions were situating themselves in their own seats, chatting and gossiping.

DiSalvori was already set up at the back of the classroom. He was writing in a notebook, head bowed and hunched over his scribbling quill. Sirius winced and averted his gaze. It was the first time he’d laid eyes on the Hufflepuff since. Since the incident.

Since he’d _murdered_ him.

James fretted that he’d never make Auror with the Black name hanging over him, but Sirius was a realist. He knew that they did Veritaserum tests to rule out illegal activities. ‘Have you ever killed anyone’ was going to be one of the questions, of course. He wouldn’t be able to lie, not when he’d pushed a classmate to his death. He'd end up in Azkaban for a crime that never happened and when they realised it wasn't true, then it was St. Mungo's for him. The crazy ward.

It was better to let James think it was his family holding him back and not...that. None of his friends would ever look at him the same way.

James led the procession over to their usual seats. Close to the front but not enough for Puckle to call them out for not paying attention. Sirius took the chair next to him and Remus sat behind like always, right next to Flitwick's empty chair.

A pointy elbow dug into his ribs and Sirius flinched, shooting James an annoyed glare as he rubbed his sore side. The other boy raised an eyebrow and Sirius realised he had been sat at his desk for several minutes in silence. Shaking his head, he flipped open his satchel. He pulled out his copy of ' _Confronting the Faceless',_ a few loose sheets of parchment. Not forgetting the pricey self-inking quill James had given him for his birthday, and his wand.

“Sirius,” Remus said from behind him. He turned around to give his furry friend an expectant look. “Professor McGonagall told you to change before lessons started! You’re going to get detention.”

He looked down at his Muggle clothes. It had completely slipped his mind.

James shrugged out of his school robe and waved it in Sirius’ face. “Your best-mate James to the rescue!”

“Ta, Prongs,” Sirius grinned, shrugging it on. He ignored how it was rather too long in the arms and height-wise because he was not short. He _wasn’t._ If Father was 6’4 and Regulus was already 6’0 in _fourth year_ , then Sirius would do better than his measly 5’5. He wouldn’t allow otherwise.

More and more students trailed in, chatting and shoving as they settled at the desks. When the clock ticked over to one, Professor Puckle stood up from his desk and closed the door with a wave of his hand. Any students that came late to class would have to face the shame of knocking and disrupting the lesson.

“Alright, everybody!” Professor Puckle said, clapping his hands to silence the room. The muttering trailed off as they all watched the man pull out his wand. He conjured a piece of chalk to hover in front of the blackboard. “I hope you’re all excited because today we’re starting up a new topic. Who can tell me about nonverbal magic?”

A few hands went up. Evans sat a couple of rows in front of them, before the Professor so she could do as much butt-kissing as possible. Flitwick, of course, and Snape. All the typical overachievers.

James’ hand shot up, which was rather surprising. He usually saved his showing off for the practical aspects of the lessons. Was he trying to get a head start? Stand out in the class of twenty students to make an impression for his Auror application?

“Mister Potter,” Professor Puckle said, pointing at him. “Go for it.”

James cleared his throat. “Nonverbal magic is the practice of channelling your spells without the use of an incantation. It’s difficult, so they only start teaching it now in Sixth Year. American witches and wizards use nonverbal spells more because it makes them less noticeable to what they call no-majes. MACUSA is very strict over there about mingling with muggles.” Evans, who had turned around to listen to him speak, gave a disgusted roll of her eyes when he shot her a grin.

“I see you’ve done your homework, James,” Professor Puckle said with an impressed nod. “Good. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Sirius jogged his elbow, frowning when James smirked in reply.

“Suck up,” he mouthed. Since when was Prongs such a goody-goody in class; eager to answer questions like a good little boy? Little stag.

“Shut up,” James mumbled, rolling his eyes. “Don't be jealous.”

Sirius reeled back, offended. _Jealous?_ He was not _jealous._

He grabbed his quill, dipped it in the ink and scribbled down James’ answers as close to word-for-word as he could get. Then, ignoring James’ curious looks, folded the parchment and slid it into his pocket. He'd get his revenge; there was no one better at holding a grudge than the Blacks.

Professor Puckle droned on for a good fifteen minutes about this and that. The origins of wandless magic and stuff archaeologists had found out about it. How magic functioned with your body and mental state, plus the risks and dangers involved. It was all very thrilling.

Not.

Head leaning on his folded arms, Sirius found himself drifting off into dreamland. He was so tired; it felt like forever since he’d gotten a full night sleep. Killing someone and getting murdered by himself from the future was very tiring. Plus, who knew how many times he’d have to do all his lessons over again? It didn’t seem like there was much point paying attention if he would hear it every day for forever and eternity.

His eyes slipped shut for the barest second and before he knew it someone was shaking him back awake.

“Sirius,” James said. “Up you get!”

Groaning, Sirius slid to his feet and glanced around the room. His classmates were taking off their robes to prepare for duelling practice to begin. He shucked his own, grabbed his wand and they trooped out down the hall to one of the bigger classrooms. It was for the practical part of the DAtDA lessons.

Remus nudged him in passing. “You shouldn’t sleep in class; it’s disrespectful.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, Moony,” Sirius rolled his eyes. They entered the room and lined up. “It’s not like it matters anyway. This is all pointless.”

“Mister Black!” Professor Puckle called and Sirius turned in surprise. He found the professor with his hands on his hips, frowning in disappointment. James snickered. “If my lesson bores you so much, why don't you take over?”

Sirius glared at him but kept his mouth shut as his classmates laughing at the misfortune he was facing.

“No?” Professor Puckle said, quirking a sardonic eyebrow. “Then keep your trap shut for the rest of the lesson and we won't have to talk about detentions after class.”

“Yeah, Padfoot,” James mumbled, holding back laughter. “Be a good doggy and shhh.”

Sirius kicked him. Ignoring James' yelp, he watched Professor Puckle pull out his dark mahogany wand.

“Nonverbal spells,” he said. “Lesson one.”

The chalkboard revolved over to reveal long paragraphs about foot placements and postures. Sirius didn't even both to give it more than a brief scan.

“Familiarise yourself with this, everybody! This will be your life for the next two months. Don't fancy reading it? You _will_ fail this class.” He waited a second for his warning to absorb. “Pair up! Whoever you pick will be who you work with for the rest of the term. There will be no swapping later, so try to pick someone you'll actually work well with.”

The class broke out into excited chatter as they all scrambled to find their friends. Sirius looked over at James, expecting to find his friend looking back at him with a knowing wink, but he had gone.

Sirius swivelled in the other direction and finally spotted his fellow Marauder. He was standing by Evans with a smug grin on his face and she was scowling, but not sending him away either.

Remus was nodding along to the chattering Artemis Flitwick and Sirius gaped at them. They'd both ditched him! _Him_! Sirius Black!

“Hi, Sirius,” Viola Ellis said, appearing at his side. “Wanna pair up?”

 _No,_  he did not want to _pair up_ with ditzy Viola Ellis. Sure, she was a Ravenclaw and excelled at most subjects, but she was also a total airhead around anything that wasn’t a book. Not even mentioning the delusions she had about them being _friends._

He looked at James again, taking in the casual way he leant on a desk only to fall a few seconds later. Evans rolled her eyes, but James ran a hand through his hair, grinning.

Sirius looked at Ellis, then sighed. Aw, what the circe! It didn’t matter, did it? Even if she hit him with a liquefying curse or somehow managed to mess up a spell, then he’d still wake up in his bed, wouldn’t he? Unfortunately, that did nothing to ease the dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'extimesco', to dread or await with fear.


	6. balneae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> balneae: smaller-scale facilities, public or private, used for bathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> Oops? Sorry for the long wait! Hopefully, this makes up for it. ;)

“Expelliarmus,” Professor Puckle announced when they’d all partnered off and found a section of the room to work in. Sirius, frowning heavily, was sulking over in the corner Ellis had picked out, shoulders back, but mind elsewhere. “This is your first attempt but there will be _no_ spoken casting. If I catch anyone cheating, it will be detention for you _and_ your partner.”

Ellis nudged him with her particularly sharp elbow and smiled cheerfully as if to say they’d never get each other into trouble. He managed to scrape together an answering smirk, but it was weak at best.

“Get to work,” came the parting instructions and Sirius shuffled over to a clear space, Ellis facing off about five feet away. Her muscles were tense and ready, brow furrowed in eager concentration, but he couldn’t bring himself to find the same enthusiasm. What was the point?

The room filled with noise despite the lesson being focused on _nonverbal_ casting. People cheering their friends on and even a few just taking the lesson as an excuse to chat. He rolled his shoulders, relaxing into his favourite duelling stance, back foot pointing out and front foot pointing forward.

His eyes drifted back to James again, who was unlikely to begin trying to cast the spell anytime soon, given with how cosy he and Evans were getting. As a girl who normally preached her hatred of ‘Potter’ to anyone who would listen (and even those that wouldn’t), Evans seemed to find his flirting awfully entertaining now.

If Evans liked James, why didn’t she just put him out of his misery? It drove Sirius crazy, seeing his best mate go lala over a girl who continued to string him along in a ‘will-they, won’t-they’ game. Sometimes she’d dismiss him outright, rude and curt, but occasionally jump back in with coy giggles and sideways glances that just gave the poor sod false hope. At least if she stuck to her point and kept kicking him aside, James would eventually get the hint and move on to someone more attainable.

Until he was eight, Sirius soiled himself at least once a week, near always mid-way through their evening meal. Everyone would be talking, engaged in dreary chitchat, but he would sit in dreadful silence, waiting for the inevitable rush of warmth in his trousers. After about fifteen minutes the wetness would seep onto the chair and the smell would reach everyone. His father would sneer and scowl in disgust and force him to stand in the tiny cupboard in the hallway. He’d stay there for the entire evening until the house was empty of guests, the cramped space too narrow to sit down and still dressed in his ruined clothes.

Walburga would return him to his room and dress him in a nightgown. She’d sing him to sleep with stories and magic tricks, then at night, late at night when Orion was dead to the world and Regulus was tucked in the nursery, she’d return. Kreacher would be there too, always lurking, ready to fulfil his Mistress’ every wish, help with whatever he could no matter the request -

“Sirius?” Ellis probed. “You’ve been staring at Potter and Evans for ages, now. It’s getting creepy.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just...get on with it, alright? You go first.”

Leaning closer than she already was, Ellis frowned in apparent concern. “If already had my turn...Are you sure you’re okay? We can sit down for a bit if you need to...?”

“I don’t need to sit,” Sirius clipped.

Ellis drew back with a startled little gasp. Maybe he’d been a bit shorter than he’d intended, but really. She should learn to mind her own business.

Then again...

“So,” he quickly added before she could point out his rudeness, “Viola. What’s it like up in Ravenclaw Tower? There are, what, four girls in your dorm? Are you all friends?”

The confusion on her face swiftly bled into suspicion. “Why do you want to know? Don’t think buttering me up is going to get me to fork over the password! I’ve heard all about your misadventures from Jane Willard. She says you’re bad luck and I was going to give you a chance, but if you’re just trying to get into my friends’ knickers, then I’ll just have to swap partners. Us Ravenclaws stick together, so don’t just -”

“Woah!” Sirius said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ve got no plans for exploring any knickers at the mo, do you copy? I’m a free agent for the foreseeable future.”

“Sirius Black swearing off the ladies?” She scoffed. “Yeah right, you phoney! I’ll believe that when I see it.” A moment passed and she unfolded her arms. “But, alright. Your question was well-intentioned - _for now!_ \- so I’ll answer. Ravenclaw is great, probably not really your scene, though. We do a lot of revising.”

Sirius tried to imagine himself sitting down with a textbook and a parchment and quill to write notes. His nose wrinkled up in disgust. “You’re right, that’s not my thing at all. I know a few geeks who’d thrive on that, though.”

Ellis followed his gaze to where Evans was absentmindedly twirling her hair around her finger as James waved his wand rather violently in, presumably, an attempt to cast their assigned spell.

“You really don’t like Evans, do you?” She looked Sirius up and down. “Jealous?”

“Jealous?” Sirius echoed. “No, that’s disgusting! Bossy know it alls aren’t my type.”

“I meant of her,” Ellis said, tucking her hands into her robe pockets and swinging them. She then leant in to whisper in his ear, though it was more of a breath: “My brother’s a queer, don’t worry.”

Sirius checked over his shoulder for any possible eavesdroppers, then spun back to fix her with a furious glare. “James is my best friend, Ellis, _nothing more._ And you know better than to mention something like that to someone like me. Your brother, whatever his name is, could be publically disgraced if I decided to spread it around.”

“‘Someone like you’? Sirius, you’re a good person!” Ellis cried. He shushed her back to a more private conversational level. “I trust you.”

“It’s not your secret to trust,” he retorted. “Secrets are the most important thing you can give a person, Ellis. Treat it with more respect than this.”

He’d learnt that lesson the year before with the unanimously unspoken-of incident with Snape and Moony. One small slip of the tongue in a moment of anger was all it took to nearly ruin his friend’s life. If he could, Sirius would try and make sure that other people learnt that lesson without such an experience to instigate it.

“I’m a Ravenclaw, Sirius,” Ellis hissed, eyes flashing fire. “You don’t need to _teach me.”_

“Miss Ellis, Mister Black!” Professor Puckle folded his arms rather menacingly from where he stood to their left. “Are you planning to participate in this lesson at any point today?”

The class, which had fallen silent at his interjections broke out into childish ‘oohs’. Ellis, as most Ravenclaws did when reprimanded by a teacher, ducked her head in shame. Sirius, as most _Gryffindors_ did when reprimanded by a teacher, attempted to defend himself.

“We were having an academic discussion! You can’t punish us for learning!”

Professor Puckle glowered. “No, but I can punish you for gossiping and for lying to me about it,” he said. “Wait outside in the hall, Sirius.”

The ‘oohs’ returned and Sirius marched to the door, slamming it shut with as much force as he could manage behind him. He aimed a swift kick at the wall and ended up stubbing his toe on a window well.

“Buggery fuck,” he hissed, James’ borrowed robe pooling on the freezing stone as he sat on the floor. So much for looking forward to DAtDA. Damn Ellis and damn Puckle! It was the stupid Ravenclaw’s fault; if she’d just kept her mouth shut - but Puckle had said they were gossiping... How would he know unless...?

Oh, shit. Did he listen in on their conversation? How much did he hear? If he’d caught the accusation Ellis had made, about Sirius being...one of those, then who knew what his reaction would be. Some wizards and witches had a softer outlook on queers in the sense that they let them go about their business so long as it was discrete and kept out of the public eye...But then there were the avid protestors who would pyre anyone they thought might be eyeing the same Quidditch team, to put it politely.

And if Puckle blabbed to the other teachers or students or, God forbid, his _parents,_ then Sirius could kiss his relatively positive future goodbye. And James, if he heard the rumour that Sirius had been eyeing him, what would he say? How would he react? His outlook was a more positive one for queers, but if that ‘queer’ was his supposed best-friend...someone who had seen him naked countless times, who often slept in his bed at Potter Manor?

That would never end well.

The door swung open and out came Professor Puckle, brow furrowed and mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Sirius,” he said as soon as they were alone in the hall. “Stand up, please.”

Sirius stood up.

“Now, kindly explain to me what’s going on. You’re disruptive in class, not rude, and I know you’re taking Wandless and Wordless Magic, so this should be easy pickings. What is the point in risking your spot on the elective roll just to show off to your classmates?”

“I was _not_ showing off,” Sirius glared. “You’re being unreasonable, sir. If I want to talk in class, then I should be able to! You just said it yourself, Professor, this stuff is easy for me! I’m just wasting my time here.”

“Then maybe you should go to your Head of House’s office and sit with her for the rest of the lesson,” Puckle crossed his arms. “Perhaps Professor McGonagall can provide you with something more challenging if you’d care to honour her with your presence.”

“You’re giving me detention!? For speaking my mind?”

“No, I’m trying to understand what’s going on inside your head,” Puckle fumed, his calm composure cracking. “You’re a great student, Sirius, clearly very bright! I just wish you’d apply yourself to your studies more. You got by on OWLs from previous knowledge, but NEWTs isn’t like that. They require hard work, revision time and I’m not sure right now if that’s something you’re able to put in.”

What was _that_ supposed to mean?

“Sir -”

“Until further notice, I'll have to ask you to forgo coming to Defence. Once you straighten yourself out then I'll discuss doing some catch-up work.”

Sirius’ mouth dropped open. “You can't be serious!” He cried. “I'm the best dueller in class! This isn't fair.”

“Well, then maybe you should have thought about that before deciding to be so rude,” Puckle said without sympathy. “Now, please return to your common room. There's about an hour and a half before your next lesson, so perhaps you can have a little think about what I've said. I will meet with Professor McGonagall schedule your detention tonight.”

Sputtering, Sirius attempted to come up with some sort of response to the baseless accusations. Puckle shook his head grimly and reentered the Defence classroom. It was silent and Sirius caught the tail end of Artemis Flitwick’s wide-eyed stare.

They'd all heard the dressing down Puckle had given him. Sirius flushed with shame. So much for his bad boy reputation...

He sulked off down the corridor, not really wanting to return to the Common Room just to hang around. He contemplated sneaking out to Hogsmeade to have a pick me up at the Hog’s Head, but that didn't seem a great idea in the face of one telling off already.

Maybe a quick shower?

He made a beeline for the toilets on the second floor. Beside the Prefect’s Bathroom and the Quidditch changing-room, it was the only place to shower outside of the dorms. Normally very quiet, too, especially since everyone was in class.

The blue knight saluted as he passed but Sirius couldn't really bring himself to be as enthused by it. What was the point?

He strode into the lavatory and over to the sink he normally used. He'd splash some cold water on his face first. That would help with stress.

Sirius dunked his head under the tap, slicking back his wet fringe. Ah. Just what he needed after such an awful Thursday. Thursdays.

Examining his face in the mirror, he couldn't help but think there should be new stress lines or maybe dark bags under his eyes. It had been a stressful few days, but since his body seemed as good as new with each loop, the effects would be purely emotional.

A smudge of colour caught his eye, bright and vivid against white tile. It was his reflection, or, at least, what was behind him in the mirror.

Heart thundering, Sirius slowly spun on his heel, pleading that what he thought he saw was a mere illusion.

Blood.

Pooling on the tiles at the end of the aisle, trailing behind the toilet stalls and on to the shower area.

He drew his wand.

“Hello?”

The pipes gurgled with water, eerily echoing off the tiled walls. Sirius, ears straining for sounds of human movement, crept forward. The air was tinted with metal.

“Is anyone there…?”

 _Thump, thump, thump,_ his heart went. His boot squeaked on the tile, loud enough to force a wince. One step, two step, to peer around the corner - pulse pounding in his throat, hands shaking a little, sweaty palms against his wand -

There was a body propped up in the showers, head tipped against a rusty silver pipe. Open eyes, blood-slicked robes. A long, clotting wound across the throat that dripped down onto a blue and copper tie. The thick stench of burning copper permeated the air.

Sirius shuffled closer, nearly slipping in a puddle of scarlet. His wand slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor, rolling away to lie forgotten against the wall. He knelt and waved trembling fingers in front of glazed enamel eyes.

The blood was near dry, tacky under his knees and no longer pouring from the vast gash. A yawning realisation came. Tick tick tick, time was fickle.

“Oh fuck,” Sirius hushed. He scrambled back, slipping on the ruby red trail to land arse over end on stained tiles. It congealed between his fingers like spilt pumpkin juice. Bile rose.

Sound exploded to the left; stampeding feet and raised voices. Sharp nailed fingers swept him up to his feet and across the room to the sinks. His hands were held under the icy water, saturated ichor disappearing in wine rivulets down the drain.

“Sirius,” someone said. Professor McGonagall rubbed his frozen palms with a rough towel, scrutinising him over silver-rimmed spectacles. “Breath, Black.”

Sirius breathed, rocking on his heels. He pulled his hands away and snuggled them under his armpits. “Professor,” he said. “I didn’t -”

 _“Don’t!”_ She insisted. “Don’t even allow room for the accusation.”

He nodded blindly. Headmaster Dumbledore was stood by the - the body, rubbing his temples. His old, heavily-lined face seemed much more pronounced under the harsh bathroom lighting, tiny creases threaded alongside his eyes. “Headmaster,” Sirius said. “Is he...?”

“I’m afraid so, Sirius. There’s nothing I can do...he’s gone.”

Sirius ducked away from Professor McGonagall and wrapped himself tighter in James’ robe. It smelt like the orange-scented soap the other boy always denied using, and the bacon he’d had for lunch.

“Professor McGonagall,” the ancient Headmaster said. “Perhaps it’s best that Filius hears this from you. I believe he’s teaching a lesson on the fourth floor right about now if you would be so kind as to retrieve him.”

“Yes, Professor. Shall I find Mateo DiSalvori as well? I hear they were...rather close and he was the one to console the boy after yesterday’s incident.”

Averting his eyes, Sirius tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible despite her words not being directed at him with any malice. They still stung, though. _It’s your fault, Sirius._

“A gentle approach,” Headmaster Dumbledore agreed. Professor McGonagall left with a tiny swish of her emerald cloak, boots clicking down the stone corridor. When they faded into silence, he cleared his throat.

“Headmaster, I can fix this,” he burst. “Just let me -”

He was cut off. “Patience, Sirius. I agree that tomorrow, whatever day that might be, will bring clarity, but try to keep a level head. Rushing will help no one.”

“It will help _him!”_ Sirius protested. He marched over to the shower stalls, standing with the seeping puddle of blood at his feet. However, he couldn’t bring himself to turn and look at Hale’s lifeless body. “He’s dead because I -” His mouth snapped shut with a wet click. “Because I.”

A wrinkled hand settled on his shoulder. “Ah, but not for long, I suspect. Not if I know you well enough, my boy.”

Oh. The time loop - _of course._ Why hadn’t he thought of that to start with?

“Then I need to go!” said Sirius. He turned. “The sooner the day restarts the sooner I -”

“Not so fast, my boy. Let us not be hasty. Surely merely processing through today will suffice.”

Sure, he _could..._ “That would be the sensible idea, huh? Sure, I can do that, sir. Shall I -” he glanced down at the drying blood, scarlet liquid shining in the bright light. “Well.”

“I think you'll find yourself free of lessons today, Sirius.”

“WaWM, too? Sheesh, you really want me to stay out of trouble, don't you?”

Headmaster Dumbledore smiled, though it was slight. “Mr Black, a student is dead and whilst you may not have been the direct cause, you and your friends did play a part.”

The bottom of his stomach dropped, any previous amusement swiftly draining away. Sirius sucked in a deep breath. “Sir - you’re saying this is,” Sirius’ voice cracked, “all _my_ fault? That’s not fair!” A rush of fury swept through him. What right did he have to make such an accusation, especially to a student?

For a second Headmaster Dumbledore looked almost...angry. “Despite what you may think, Mr Black,” he said quietly. “The world does not revolve around you and your friends. We do not tolerate bullying here, and perhaps I have been remiss at turning a blind eye to what I saw mostly as harmless joking.”

“It was harmless!”

Headmaster - no. He didn’t deserve the title if he was going to be so - so - _Dumbledore_ pointed a finger around the corner and Sirius couldn't help but follow it, staring into Hale’s pale filmy eyes, framed by a necktie of blood - Ravenclaw robes ruined and the soles of his shoes tacky with blood.

“Does that look harmless to you, Mr Black? Truly?”

He stepped, boot splashing in the trail, feet going out from under him. Sirius grunted as he fell onto his back with windmilling arms. After a moment he sat up. Dumbledore, crazy old man, merely watched with a thoughtful frown as Sirius stared at the red liquid now staining his hands.

“Please return to your dorm, Sirius. Like I said; lessons are cancelled.” He swept to one side, hand extended.

“Yes, sir.” Sirius slipped to his feet, ducked past Dumbledore and walked swiftly to the door. He wanted to glance over his shoulder, could feel the old man’s eyes burning into his soul.

He didn't.

The door swung shut behind him with a thump, plunging the corridor into an eerie silence.

Sirius, as he shuffled down the hall, couldn't help but see Dumbledore’s serious, dull blue eyes in his head. It haunted him mere minutes after the confrontation, let alone what would happen in a few days - few weeks.

“I say,” a painting of a surly knight sat astride a beautiful white horse said, “whoever did _you_ defeat, young man? You look as though a strong spit would knock you over!”

Later, he wouldn’t remember anything about his long trek back to Gryffindor Tower. When asked, Sirius would deny the few tears that meandered down his cheeks and certainly not accept the fact that he fell over twice and merely sat on the floor for several minutes.

The Common Room was desolate, not a person to be seen. Sirius sat down in front of an extinguished fireplace and stared at the charcoal wood lying in the grate.

He pulled out his wand and twirled it between his fingers like a drumstick.

Was what Dumbledore said true? Had he played a part in Hale’s death? They'd teased a lot of people over the years and, sure, they'd never had a reaction as dramatic as hiding in the bathroom to cry - to his knowledge -, but did that mean he and the other Marauders had caused Hale's to commit suicide?

Surely to commit such an act one had to be unstable in the first place, and that wasn't _their_ fault. Hale had to have had some underlying mental problems to take his own life over a joke - especially one as innocent as a little porridge to the head. Sirius had done much worse for far less.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, which felt greasy enough to warrant showering, Sirius tried to put Hale’s lifeless face out of his mind.

He'd seen dead people before. This one wasn't even that bad compared to, say, a pleading House Elf being beheaded by one of its distraught relatives, or a slimy wizard from the underbelly of Knockturn Alley being slowly turned inside out for thievery against the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Yeah... He grimaced. Not as bad, but still not good. And he hadn't had any effect on the previous deaths - sure, he'd watched it happen, but the axe or wand had always been in the hand of someone else. It was silly to think that porridge could actually be a murder weapon, but was that true?

Had a harmless little prank pushed Hale to suicide? If they'd know he'd do such a thing they wouldn't have done it, of course, but that was the crux of the issue. They _hadn't_ known about Hale’s apparent suicidal dream or that they would be the ones to set him off.

James would probably brush it off outwardly but Sirius knew it would eat him up inside. And Remus, whilst not directly involved, had been there and laughed along with them...on top of the werewolf angst, this would only see fit to push him closer to complete and total self-hatred.

At least Wormtail hadn't been at breakfast that morning, busy rushing an essay for Herbology he'd put off until the last minute. He was spared the guilt.

Sirius wasn't entirely sure if he himself felt guilty so much as upset at having the accusations thrown at him. It was a pity Hale was gone, but he and Dumbledore alone knew that tomorrow that wouldn't be the case. Maybe the feelings were dulled because of that? Or he was just an empty husk with no emotions, as Evans sometimes liked to accuse.

He threw his wand onto the sofa and stripped off James’ robe, discarding it to one side over a stack of Muggle magazines with glossy covers.

“Um, excuse me,” a voice mumbled.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder in annoyance. A chubby boy with curls the colour of overcooked rice peered down at him, smiling uncertainly. He looked vaguely familiar in the way most people at Hogwarts did. It wasn’t a big school population, after all.

“Yes?”

“I'm Sturgis Podmore,” the boy said. “I was wondering if you have time to talk.”

“Right now?” Sirius asked, trying not to sound too annoyed, but really? Now?

Podmore puffed up with bravado. “Yes. We need to talk about my sister.”

Sirius wracked his brain. “Who?”

“My sister,” Podmore repeated. “Polly. You're supposed to be taking her to Hogsmeade this weekend...”

“Oh,” Sirius said. “Yeah, I know her. What's the matter? Did she change her mind?” He hoped that was the case since he was adamant he'd spend the Saturday with Remus now.

“No,” Podmore scowled, looking rather unhappy about this. “But that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I know what you're like and I want to know if you're serious about dating Polly or if she's just another skirt to you.”

Sirius turned around fully and rested his head on the back of the sofa. “Look, Podmore,” he said. “I'm going to be honest - your sister seems nice and all, but I'm not looking for any real commitment right now. Maybe you'd be better off sending her on her way if you think she needs it.”

Surprisingly, he looked relieved. “Oh, good. I was worried you'd want to, er, duel or something. So, you, just, what, are gonna dump her?”

“We’re not dating, just going on a date. Different things entirely, mate. I don't mind letting her down easy if you want, though.”

“Um, well -”

“If you do me a favour in return,” he finished. “Nothing too big, I promise.”

Podmore narrowed his eyes eagerly. “What is it?”

“I want you to run along to the third floor,” Sirius explained. “To Professor Puckle’s Defence classroom and wait until three. Fetch Potter and Lupin for me, tell them I need urgent help in our dorm.”

“Is that all?”

“Oh and make sure you get to them before everyone starts gossiping,” he insisted. “Then if you get back here quick enough I'll dump your sister.”

Podmore sucked in his gut with a determined nod. “Deal!”

They shook and then the Fifth Year was scurrying away through the portrait hole. Sirius sat back in smug satisfaction.

After a few minutes, he collected his wand, then headed upstairs. He sat on his bed and toed off his boots with a triumphant sigh.

Sirius summoned his record player from under Peter’s bed, took off the protective case and fitted the needle over the shiny record he'd been given by Remus for his birthday. He knew his fellow Marauder was far from rich and so had clearly saved up a lot of money to buy it.

The sweet tones of Elton John began to croon from the player, bouncing off the walls in a dulcet melody, soothing his racing thoughts with a beautiful symphony.

His eyes slipped shut after barely a minute and the world of dreams consumed him.

"Get up, you lump!”

Sirius sighed and rolled over. Then over again in a dizzying spin until he landed on a hard surface.

“Oh fuck,” he said, eyes flying open. The ‘surface’ turned out to be his trunk, which was thankfully placed at the end of his bed. Still, though.

“What's the Circe is going on, Pads?! First, you get kicked out of class and now you're sending a minion to come and fetch us?!” James yelled, arms waving wildly. Remus stood to the side with a wary frown, leaned away to avoid being smacked in the face. Peter was nowhere in sight, thankfully. Sirius liked the rat, but he didn't want to blurt all his secrets to such a gossiper.

He sat up in his trunk and stared at his hands. His record had stopped playing and it was eerily silent for a dormitory usually so full of energy.

“Did you hear?”

James growled in frustration. “Did we hear _what!?_ Your humiliation in Defence? Yes, yes we did.”

“No! Did you hear about Hale?”

“What happened?”

“He's dead,” Sirius blurted and a tiny stress crease appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Killed himself. I found his body in the bathroom on the second floor after Puckle kicked me out of the lesson.”

James gaped and Remus went white. “He's _dead?_ Like...dead dead?”

“Yes, Prongs, of course I mean dead dead,” Sirius barked. “I wouldn't joke about this! Professor Dumbledore said it was our fault, so I'm pretty damn sure about this.”

Remus blanched, pale as a bone. “He said that? Really? But we... Are you talking about the prank yesterday? The one at breakfast?”

“With the porridge,” added James. He sunk down onto his bed. “Oh, Merlin. That was...that was _us,_ Pads! He killed himself because of that?”

“Supposedly,” Sirius said. “Must've been a tad depressed already, though. No one kills themselves over a prank, do they? No one in their right mind, that is.”

“It doesn't matter if he's a crazy nutter, Sirius!” Remus yelled, voice cracking on his name. “We still triggered this. It's still on our heads. What - how did he do it?”

“Spell,” Sirius said. “I think. Some sort of cutting curse. Slit his throat.”

James gagged. “Fuck.” He seemed to spot the pale staining Sirius had across his hands, tacky patches of pale pink and bright red clots. “Sirius - you -”

Sirius stared at his hands, nausea swirling in his gut. He picked at a flaky piece of blood and watched it tumble down onto his leg.

“Go take a shower,” Remus urged. “Please, Padfoot, just...wash that off.”

Sirius opened his mouth, then gently closed it. He shuffled to the lavatory and shut the door with a quiet click, leaning against it with a sigh. His tacky, blood-stained hands caught a reflection in one of the mirrors lining the wall, stark enough against his pale skin that it looked almost comical.

He turned the shower to an almost unbearable heat, then stepped under the spray still dressed in his clothes. Water pooled in his boots, turning his socks horrendously soggy. It was probably far less than he deserved, however. After all - he had killed _someone._

But then...had he? Did their prank cause Hale’s suicide? And if so, would it be considered their fault? They hadn’t actually done anything physically harmful to him. Killing himself had been Hale’s own decision, not something they could be held accountable for under Wizarding Law.

However, _legal_ accountability as an entirely different ball game to _moral_ accountability. A judge and jury wouldn’t find them guilty, but society and their peers would if the word got out. Which it undoubtedly already had.

“Stupid stupid,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand through his hair, ignoring the scalding heat that produced a humid cloud of steam. The mirror fogged up, hiding his pitiful expression.

What had Dumbledore said again? ‘Would it not be best to simply...wait the day out?’ That was the stupidest thing he’d heard all day - all five of them. What was the point in that? Why would he bother to hang around and be blamed for some idiot killing themselves when he could easily kill _himself_ and start afresh?

The whole time loop was bullshit - absolute fucking bullshit - was there any point to it all?! Was he supposed to be doing something or was this a curse, forever and unfixable? But the other him, the one from the future, had said it would be a hundred years...he couldn’t live through that much - it had only been six days and he was already losing his _fucking mind_ -

His family really was eternally damned, no matter what you did, blood was blood and crazy likened crazy - he would _always_ be a Black, would always be _cruel_ and _unkind,_  a _miserable_ excuse for a Gryffindor - he’d had to **_beg_ ** the Hat to not place him in Slytherin, but it was always fate, never up to him, because the Hat was right; he had bitterness in his heart, a shrivelled thing marred by cobwebs and hidden spiders, rotting corners where dark things sat until he did something to reveal them - to show everyone how he really was - that Sirius Black was a _Black_ and he could cry and beg and _grovel_ all he wanted, but that would always be the case - **_it would -_ **

Sirius screwed his eyes shut and swung out at the wall over and over again until the water at his feet ran red. He managed a strangled scream of fury and tumbled out of the shower, slipping in his wet clothes. Sirius threw a small glass bottle with all his might at his foggy and distorted reflection.

There was an almighty crash. Shards of the mirror rained down into the sink and across the floor, swiftly followed by another primal yell. The tiles at his feet cracked and fractured like a bird’s wing touched too cruelly as Sirius dropped to his knees, chest heaving with ugly sobs. His lungs constricted at the hot steam in the air, nails digging into skin.

“Sirius. Sirius, open the door, please.”

It was all so _meaningless._ Saving people, trying to do good, trying to change...why bother? Nothing would change, not for a hundred years at least. To be trapped like that, to have to relive the same day over and over...how would he stay sane? He was already going off his fucking head after less than a week, who knew what insanity this would toll.

“Sirius.”

He threw a fallen bottle of shampoo, watching it bounce harmlessly across the room and skitter under the sink. “Go _away,_ Remus.”

“You know I can’t do that. James’ gone to fetch Professor McGonagall with the key, and you and I both know you’ll be better off if you come out before she gets here.”

“I don’t _care,_ shit, I don’t - I don’t give a flying _fuck!”_

“Last time -”

“Fuck off!” Sirius scrambled across the room and slapped his hands against the door, “Just _fuck off!_ Can I not have ten bloody minutes of privacy in this place!? What do you want from me, Remus? Why can’t you just all _leave me alone,_ huh!? You hear me, Remus? Go away! **_LEAVE ME ALONE!"_**

A great force knocked him square off his feet and Sirius let out a pained cry as he was thrown across the room to smack into the shower, scorching water still pouring down atop his body.

“Sirius!?”

He sat up and rubbed his head, water pooling in his lips and beading across his eyelashes. Something bumped against his hand. It was his wand. Sirius picked it up and ran his thumb over the intimately familiar runes, the square base that was unique in the sense that he’d never seen its like otherwise. Fifteen inches was very long for a wand, as most tended to fall around ten or eleven. Ollivander, at the time, had put it down to a large sense of character and personality, whilst his mother had called it ‘compensating’.

Climbing to his feet and out of the shower’s spray, Sirius pointed his wand at his clothes and muttered the hot-air charm. Steam puffed out and immediately set to work drying him off.

He kicked his boots off into the corner of the room and strode over to the door to unlock it. Remus, who had been leaning against the sturdy wooden frame, stumbled forward with windmilling arms. Sirius gently steadied him, then smiled a dead-eyed smile.

“Moony,” he said. “What would you do if you found out that you had killed someone on the full moon?”

Remus went grey. “What would I -? I m-mean...I couldn't survive in Azkaban, Padfoot so I...would most likely take my own life. Or sequester myself away from other people.” He hesitated. “Why do you ask?”

“Because Hale is dead because of me! If he’s gone, shall I also face Death in His sweetest embrace? My ancestors shame me, Remus! For what good am I, a bad dog in a good world?”

“You're speaking in prose, Sirius. You only do that when you're maudlin.”

“Maudlin or Marauding! Does not a tear slip on my cheek? Am I not penitent? Merlin strike me!”

Remus hit him across the face with a heavy hand. Sirius cradled his stinging jaw, mouth bursting with bitter red pennies. He'd bitten through his lip and blood was dripping down his chin to speckle the floor and his sopping newly-dried clothes.

“Sirius Black, you stop it right now!”

“Wha’ -” he cut himself off, wincing at the slurring sting. “Ah...I didn’ ‘ean ‘oo!”

“Shut your mouth,” Remus snarled. “You know I hate it when you do this. When you try and distance yourself from emotion through - through _bad poetry!”_

He frowned a petulant frown. “Sad? S’not sad! S’ amazin’! N’ don’ say ‘at, jus’...”

“You’re coping, Sirius, I know you do it. We all know. You’ve done it since we’ve been here, age eleven, of course we’ve caught on.” Remus sighed heavily and sat on his bed, leaving Sirius standing in the middle of the room like a pathetic lamppost with no candle. “Listen. If you can accept my...furry problem, then I can accept your...anger problem. Ah-ah! Don’t interrupt. No protesting. You have a bad temper, Sirius, come on, admit. Maybe this...maybe Hale passing is a good thing. Not...not right now, obviously, because...yes. But eventually! I’m sure he’d want you to learn from this and reflect on yourself. Become a kinder person in the long run.”

“‘es dead. No’ wan’in any’fin.”

“In the afterlife. Metaphorically, whatever you need to hear! He’s dead, Sirius. He’s not coming back, there’s no smoothing over this. A student is dead because of something we, yes you to a greater extent, but still us collectively because I didn’t stop you and James cheered it on, which is just as bad, did to him, and that can’t be changed. What we can do is shape-up, alright? You asked me what I would do if I attacked someone? I would take my own life, yes, but that’s because the wolf would still be a threat. You? It was a silly mistake, and judging by the look on your face, one you’ll never ever make again.”

Sirius nodded.

He stared at his feet.

His chest swelled with a confession, fit to burst.

Remus pulled out his wand and healed his lip with a gentle wave. “Alright?”

He deflated.

“Yeah, Moony...alright.”

* * *

 


	7. simul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter and the delay, but I needed to do some working-around and make way for the second arc!
> 
>  
> 
> SIMUL: together; at the same time.

James arrived with Professor McGonagall in ridiculous fanfare. He threw the door open so hard it rattled on its hinges, and let out a loud, primal yell. “DON’T WORRY, PADDY, I’M HERE!” He planted his hands on his hips.

“Mister Potter!” Professor McGonagall cried. “Control yourself, please!” She nudged him out of the doorway and settled both Sirius and Remus with a firm, speculative look. “Mister Lupin? Mister Black? Would you care to explain why I’ve been dragged away from my duties at such a _delicate time?”_

Remus looked at Sirius.

Sirius looked at James.

Remus looked at James.

Sirius looked at Remus.

James looked at himself in a nearby mirror.

“Well?”

“Well,” Remus repeated. “Well. You see -”

“I got a letter from my parents!” Sirius threw his hands up. “I had a tiny - infinitesimal really - freak out about it. It was all,” he glared at his friends, “just a big misunderstanding.”

“Uh,” James said.

“Right, guys?”

“Oh. Yep, right! Totally sorry about that, Minnie! Just, haha, one _big_ confusion! Silly old me,” James smacked his forehead. “Doh.”

Professor McGonagall surveyed them down her nose. “If that is the case, Mister Black, perhaps you won’t mind telling me what has happened to your hand.”

Sirius lifted his right hand and stared at it, the pink-tinted pale skin over long, thin-boned fingers and a skinny wrist. He saw nothing particularly _wrong_ with it, though.

“Your _other_ hand,” Professor McGonagall sighed.

Sirius lifted his left hand. The knuckles of the index and middle finger were swollen, red and cracked, blood peeking out from inside. He flexed a fist, but there was no pain.

“Don’t do that!” James said sternly. “Here, let me heal you.”

As the skin on his hand slowly began to knit back together under James’ gentle ministrations, Sirius looked to Professor McGonagall’s stern and unflinching face.

“Mister Black,” she said. “Don’t you think you’ve created enough tragedy this afternoon?”

His heart dropped down to his knees. _Hale._ Clearly, she wanted to punish him now...

“Am I being expelled?” he asked quietly and James let out a horrified yelp.

“Expelled?! Professor, you can’t expel Sirius, he’s done nothing wrong!”

“Nothing wrong?” Professor McGonagall said frostily. “Mister Potter, a student is _dead_ ; not directly by your hands, I grant, but Mister Black is very aware of how pivotal his actions were in what happened tonight. If it were up to me, you’d be at home for the rest of the term to think about the repercussions your foolish ‘pranks’ can have.”

 _Home?_ If possible, Sirius’ face went even paler. He couldn’t imagine how Walburga would react to him just rocking up on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place, trunk in hand. And without Reg there to even soften the blows a little bit...come April he’d be as crazy as the rest of his Godric forsaken family!

“Suspension?” Remus said faintly. “Professor -”

“Enough! If I hear so much as a peep out of any of you, then I will not be held accountable for my actions! Mister Potter, Mister Lupin, remain here - _in your dorm_ \- for the rest of the day. Classes have been cancelled and I don’t wish to see either of you nor Mister Pettigrew, until breakfast tomorrow! At the earliest!”

“And me?”

“You will come along with me. It is time to face the consequences of your decisions, Sirius.”

“But -”

“James,” Sirius said before Professor McGonagall completely blew her top. “It’s fine. I’ll see you lads later. Stay here and be good, alright?”

He followed McGonagall out the door and down to the Common Room in icy cold silence. She didn’t so much as spare a glance in his direction, eyes kept firmly forward. Sirius avoided the gazes of his Housemates with his head up. He still had _some_ self-respect.

They exited the portrait and his feet grew cold and numb with every step. Right. He’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing shoes - humiliating, but nothing when compared to everything else that was happening.

On and on they walked until Sirius finally realised where they were heading. But by then it was too late - dread prickled up and down his spine like faint, invisible fingertips. Professor McGonagall opened the doors to the Hospital Wing so she could slip inside and Sirius slowly followed suit.

There was only one bed occupied, but the student upon it was covered with a plain white sheet. Surrounding the bed were eight people. Three, the standing ones, he recognised immediately. Dumbledore, Professor Flitwick, and Madame Pomfrey.

Sitting in a tight circle around the bed - _around the body_ \- were an older couple. The man, with his back to Sirius, had sandy blonde hair and was rather stocky, whilst the woman, presumably his wife, was dark-haired, fair-skinned and looked as if a slight breeze would knock her over. There were also two girls in their twenties, dark-haired like their mother. Mateo Hale was squished on the end, head bowed.

They were all crying, either hearty sobs or silent shaking, but Sirius would have read the atmosphere easily enough without the signs; the gloom and sadness; the grief -

“I need to go,” he hissed to Professor McGonagall.

“Mister Hale, Missus Hale,” she said and everyone looked up. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss, but this is Sirius Black. He -”

“You killed him!” Mateo cried, red face wet with snot and tears. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t played that awful trick, if you hadn’t...then maybe Mikey would be - he’d be...”

“Black?” Mister Hale asked quietly. “Any relation to Orion Black?”

Sirius looked at the wall of the Hospital Wing, eyes tracing a crack near the ceiling that disappeared behind a medicine cabinet. “Yes, sir,” he said. “That’s my father.”

“Mister Hale, perhaps this may be more appropriate -”

“It’s alright, Headmaster,” said Missus Hale. If looks could kill - well, Sirius would probably be roasting on a spit, dying a slow and painful death. “Please, just let us talk.”

“Come, Mateo,” Dumbledore said. He guided Mateo from the room, past Sirius’ frozen figure. Madame Pomfrey disappeared into her office, hanky in hand, and Professor Flitwick still seemed torn.

“Filius,” Professor McGonagall gently coaxed. “Mister Black has agreed to this.”

Had he? Sirius didn’t remember that, but, then again, he was having trouble remembering anything but how Michael Hale looked, lying in a pool of his own blood, the red staining most prominently around his neck and jaw.

Then he was all alone with Hale’s parents and, presumably, his older sisters. Was that safe? Were the professors supposed to do that? Probably not, he guessed it didn’t really matter.

“Sirius,” Mister Hale said. “Our boy is dead.” Missus Hale choked a sob into her handkerchief. “We will never get him back. Do you understand this?”

“Yes...yes, sir.”

“Then you must know the pain we are feeling - the agony of knowing Michael died from a cruel _joke_ played by a stupid child who didn’t know any better.”

Sirius opened his mouth but found himself unable to form a coherent sentence. What could he say to that? He wasn’t a child, but his actions had been badly thought through and he had also failed to consider the repercussions that humiliation could have on a person as sensitive as Hale had turned out to be.

And yet...Sirius wasn’t entirely at blame, right? He’d triggered Hale’s death but he wasn’t the one who cast the curse, so to speak. Placing the fault solely on his shoulders felt a tad misplaced, but he wasn’t going to argue with the clearly furious and grieving wizard. He wasn’t _that_ stupid, after all.

“What sort of punishment do you think you deserve?” asked Missus Hale in a voice so quiet it was barely louder than an exhale. “I want to know what you have to say.”

Sirius, having just been asked the worst question he could imagine, stared helplessly at the white sheet, knowing that underneath was Hale’s cold, expressionless face. A punishment? Was there a punishment that could equal that? He didn’t particularly want to die a long and painful death, which he got the impression was what Hale’s parents wanted, but if he said _no_ punishment...that would undoubtedly not end in a happy time either. He was nice and royally screwed.

“Why are we listening to him?” asked one of the sisters, jumping to her feet so fast her chair clattered to the floor. “Why are we granting him any sort of leniency? Why is he still standing there whilst _my little brother_ cools on his funeral bed!?”

“Magdalena!” snarled Mister Hale, but she didn’t seem inclined to listen.

“His punishment should be _exactly_ what he caused - how would your family feel, hm? Would you like your parents coming down here to claim your body, to identify their dead son!?”

_“Magdalena!”_

“No, Dad,” said Magdalena. She pulled out her wand and approached him with several quick steps, face red and eyes so wide Sirius could see white all the way around them. “This is what Mikey would have wanted.”

Sirius held his hands up defensively. He didn’t have his own wand, didn’t even know where it was, actually. Had he left it with Remus? Dropped it on the way to the Hospital Wing? Did James have it?

Magdalena dug her wand tip into his chest, hard enough to really hurt.

“Mags,” said the other sister, not even bothering to sound too fussed. Though Mister Hale had protested, neither he nor his wife moved to stop their daughter, watching with cool looks on their faces. Sirius swallowed the knot in his throat, trying not to show how nervous he felt.

“Look,” he said quietly, holding his hands up. “I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. You’ll never know how sorry I am, but curse me and you’ll regret it. Dumbledore and two other professors are waiting right outside that door and they _will_ come running if they hear fighting.”

“There’s not going to be a fight,” said Magdalena. “Otherwise you would have already drawn your wand. Get on your knees, Black.”

“Come on,” he said, mouth running without thought now. He knew, logically, that he’d wake up in his bed if she were to do something fatal, but...what if she didn’t? What if she horribly disfigured him and it carried over into the next loop, or he was stuck in a coma he never woke up from? What if the curse stuck across loops? “Don’t do this. I didn’t - I’m so sorry about your brother.”

“Your apologies don’t mean anything to us,” said Mister Hale, coming to stand at the side of his daughter. “Do as she says.”

Sirius cast a glance at the door to the Hospital Wing but knew he wouldn’t make the run. If he called for help they’d surely attack him anyway and Dumbledore was powerful but not fast enough to stop whatever they’d do to Sirius as soon as he opened his mouth. He slid to his knees, fists flexing open and close in a repetitive rhythm. He hoped whatever they did ended up being quick and painless, but doubted that would be the case.

“I’ll send my condolences to your family,” said Magdalena. “But I doubt they’ll be too fussed - you’re nothing special and they have your brother, right? It’s probably a better tradeoff as far as they’re concerned.”

“Fuck you,” Sirius whispered as her wand dug into his forehead, refusing to look away from her malicious brown eyes.

She chortled; it was a dark and bitter sounding thing. “I’ll be doing the world a favour. Rot in Hell, Black.”

Missus Hale sobbed loudly. “My boy!” she said, huddling back by Hale’s sheet-covered body. “My baby boy...”

Magdalena looked at her devastated mother then turned her burning eyes back to Sirius, taking a deep breath presumably to bolster herself.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

* * *

 

 

Something hurt.

He grunted softly at the throbbing in his head, trying to convince his arm to move so he could inspect the source of the awful pain. After several drawn-out minutes, Sirius worked up the courage to peel open his eyes. He stared at the stone ceiling towering way above his head and then blinked slowly, trying to clear his fuzzy thoughts.

Wait. Sirius stared even harder.

The room was dark and distorted, rather chilly when compared to his ever-heated dormitory. Which he should be in. Because of the time loop. But he wasn’t. Because...because -

He sat up and looked around. Alright, so it wasn’t a dream. He was dressed in some hideous blue pyjamas and tucked neatly into a bed, which was surrounded by a plain white curtain. He recognised it intimately from all of Remus’ stays - the Hospital Wing.

Sirius brought a hand up to his painful head and felt bandages. That would explain the tight, constricting pressure, but not what he was doing there as he _distinctly_ remembered Hale’s mad sister casting the Killing Curse and that didn’t equal a bump on the head for Circe’s sake!

Footsteps shuffled from beyond the curtains, quiet and singular. Sirius waited with his heart in his throat as they grew closer and closer until, finally, the curtain was drawn aside to reveal - nothing.

“Wha - ?” A hand clamped over his mouth. Sirius let out a muffled cry of alarm as he was dragged off the bed and onto a warm lump of a person. He recognised the strong smell of lemon-scented shampoo after a moment and smacked invading hand away.

“James,” he hissed. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Can it,” James whispered, breath tickling his ear. “Just follow me.”

Sirius, who was not stupid, wisely complied, clambering to his feet and keeping close to James’ side as they shuffled out of the Hospital Wing, making sure the cloak didn’t lift and show their feet. He wasn’t even wearing any shoes or socks, so the stone was freezing under his soles. Sirius hoped whatever James deemed important enough to kidnap him over was worth the dramatics.

They traversed the corridor in silence, James’ breathing shallowly in the quiet darkness. It was night. Late at night. What was all this about? Sirius’ gut grew tight with nerves; he had a bad feeling about what was going to happen, even if logically he felt ridiculous. James was practically his _brother;_ he wouldn’t do anything to purposefully harm him...

“James, where are we going?” he asked softly.

“Shhh, Siri. Just hang on.”

...Right?

* * *

 

 

Sirius got more and more nervous the further James towed him. He trusted his best-friend completely, but what if this _wasn’t_ his best-friend? The concrete repetition of his time loop had become the near-norm and now that he’d woken up in some strange universe where he was in a hospital bed and not his own, who was to say this James wasn’t his James at all?

He shook himself.

His James or not, he couldn’t imagine his best-friend purposely doing something to harm him, even if they were in an unknown universe...it was just nerves from the surprise of waking up somewhere unusual, right? Sirius was a bit of an over-thinker, after all. James would probably laugh at him if he disclosed his lingering fears.

Finally, when his heart was practically beating three times its regular speed, James slowed to a stop. They were still on the First Floor, but a part of the castle Sirius didn’t immediately recognise - the hallway was dark, after all, and the windows were merely empty voids into the night. He shivered at a draft, feeling ridiculous in the gaudy blue pyjamas he’d be forced into in his unconscious state, hopefully by Madame Pomfrey, and -

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Sirius asked as they threw off the invisibility cloak, keeping his voice low just in case. It wouldn’t do to get caught by a professor when his best-friend was acting so squirrelly and the situation itself made no sense. “It’s freezing!”

“Sorry,” James said, not looking very sorry. “I had to make sure no one was listening.”

“Listening to _what!?_ You are the most cryptic bastard I’ve ever met, Prongs, honestly. Come out with it before my arse freezes over in this draft!”

“You were acting funny all morning,” James explained, chewing his lip. “I thought you’d snuck off for a night-kip, but that didn’t make any sense because you’ve never done that before -”

“James _Fleamont_ Potter,” Sirius said, grabbing his face and forcing James to look into his eyes as he squished his cheeks. “So help me, you _will_ explain what is going on or I will _make_ you -”

“In Dumbledore’s office!” James burst, shoving Sirius’ hands away. He dropped them back to his sides in shock - in _what?_ “I’m sorry I was such a prick, but you were out of line too and I know Lil - Evans - said some stuff that was wrong, but that doesn’t give you the right to act like an idiot and mess around with dangerous magic -”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about? That was - how do you remember that; it hasn’t happened yet! Or...did happen? I don’t know how it works, this is all complicated ti -”

“Time stuff!” James finished, crossing his arms. “Tell me about it.”

Sirius stared, bug-eyed and blinking slowly. “I think _you’re_ better off doing that right now.”

“I told you the chain looked rusty,” he scowled. “But you just _had_ to drop it, so what was I supposed to do? Leave you to fend for yourself?”

“You remember that?”

“Of course,” James said. “And I know you do too. When you dropped the timeturner, something freaky happened, Paddy. I’ve been waking up, over and over again, because the stupid sun is shining in my eyes and then everyone plays the same. It’s exhausting.” He scrubbed a hand through the bird’s nest he called a hairdo. “You get me? Please say you get me.”

“You’re saying...you -?

“Like I said, I couldn’t just do nothing and watch you vanish forever, so when the chain broke I tried to grab your arm,” James sighed ruefully. “Guess that screwed us both over.”

“Oh fuck,” Sirius breathed. “You’re looping too.”

* * *

 


End file.
